


Temperamental Sanctuary

by User24601



Series: The Trials and Tribulations Series [3]
Category: Law & Order: Criminal Intent
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, Erotic Electrostimulation, F/M, Flashbacks, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Pegging, Prostitution, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-03-31 05:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 76,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13968750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/User24601/pseuds/User24601
Summary: Part IIIRobert Goren has been saved from the horrific abuse he suffered at the hands of cruel and relentlessly ruthless men in Chicago. He has now been brought home to New York City where he comes in contact with a mysterious benefactor. Will she be the key to his salvation or are her intentions more depraved?





	1. Unnatural Interest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly suggest reading parts I and II before starting this story.

Up before the sun, Everett Fray had always been the type of man who preferred to follow a rigid schedule. This method provided him with both mental and physical stability required of him. It allowed him the time he needed to collect his thoughts in a manner that enabled him to deal with the constant fluctuation that occurred within the walls of the institution. 

As was his usual practice, he arrived at the institute before the regular staff started their daytime shifts. He savored these quiet mornings to get his paperwork sorted before being bombarded with the issues of the day. 

Entering the facility, Fray took a moment to stop in front of the portrait of Roger Basil. The late founder had been like no other employer Fray had ever worked for before in his life. Roger had always been kind and understanding but extremely intelligent and wise. Smiling and joking, he had made everyone around him at ease. A happy employee is a productive employee, it was one of old man’s many sayings. It was a shame that the current proprietor didn’t share his vision. 

As Fray walked down the hallway, he noticed something unusual. The light to his office was on and the door was ajar. Quickly closing the space in a few brisk steps, Fray opened the door to find a pair of legs, feet bare, hanging over the arm of one of the wide high backed chairs that faced his desk.

“Good morning, Miss Basil,” he said, his voice low and unperturbed. “It’s a bit early for you to be up, isn’t it?”

“Mmmmm,” came the response from the chair, “early? Maybe for you, Everett. It’s late for me.”

Coming around to his desk, Fray observed the proprietor of the institute as she held her phone out away from her and the click of the camera as she took a selfie. If her comment hadn’t already clued him in on the fact that she had been out all night, her appearance certainly would have. A pair of the most unpractical looking heels lay on the floor next to the chair, the young woman lying across it didn’t fare much better. The shiny blue dress barely covered the tops of her thighs and had ridiculous cutouts that were underlined with bright yellow lace. The young woman’s hair had probably started out as curls but now resembled a tangled mess. And there was glitter everywhere on her person.

Knowing better than to ask what she had been up to all night, Fray asked, “What brings you to my office, Miss Basil?”

“Take a wild guess,” said Katherine Elizabeth as she stared at her phone not even bothering to make eye contact with the director.

Glancing down, Fray noticed that some of the papers and folders were neatly stacked, their edges perfectly parallel with the sides of the desk. Unconsciously straightening things was a nervous tick, but it wasn’t his. But it did remind him of a young teenager who would often accompany her grandfather to work. Back then she had lit up a room when she walked in it, her unmedicated ADD making her fidgety and yet so energizing to be around. Always eager to help, she would assist in organizing and sorting things, making neat stacks with perfectly squared corners, sorted by colors.

Sighing at the memory of who Katherine Elizabeth had once been, he decided to let her snooping slide. Not wanting to pick a fight so early in the morning. No, he just needed to set her straight and then send her on her way. He knew why she was there. And her fascination with the new resident really had to be put to an end.

“It’s hasn’t even been two weeks yet. I told you to keep your expectations realistic. Mr. Goren is not going to miraculously start talking overnight. These things take time.”

The sound of her long manicured nails hitting the screen filled the silence as she was either too busy texting or tweeting to respond. Fray waited. He was a patient man and he knew that despite her apparent disinterest she was here for a reason.

Finally, she broke the silence by saying, “You’d think with all the money we spend on payroll that we could afford some competent therapists.”

Ever since they had transferred Goren from Chicago, Miss Basil had been dropping by, unannounced, to check in on his progress. Before, Fray managed to go months without having to see her. How Roger had managed to raise such a contentious brat, he’d never know. The young woman before him had none of his old friend’s charm or kindness. That they were even related, to begin with, was astounding.

“Our staff is more than competent. You know that. Besides Goren is not a toy to be played with. And frankly, Miss Basil, you really should not be interfering in his care. You don’t have the proper training or —“

“I do have a psychology degree, Everett,” the young woman growled as she interrupted the director.

“A bachelor’s degree,” Fray qualified, “is not adequate enough for you to make an informed assessment of either the care of a patient or the quality of the staff. Now maybe if you got around to taking the GRE and applying to grad school —“

“NO,” Katherine Elizabeth practically shouted, swinging around to a sitting position and facing the director. “We are not having this discussion again, Everett. I will pursue higher education in my own time. That’s not why I’m here right now.”

“Then I’ll say it again: Goren. Is. Not. A. Toy.”

“I never said that he was.”

“No? Then why have you taken such a unnatural interest in his care? You’ve never shown any interest in any of the other residents before. So why now? Why him?”

“You know how Grandfather came to feel about the NYPD after 9/11. He would’ve wanted to help Goren in any way possible. Can’t you just be happy that I’m making an effort to be like him for once?”

“Is it because Goren was raped?” Fray asked, alluding to some of Miss Basil’s proclivities she had taken up since her grandfather’s passing. “Is that why you find him so intriguing? You find his particular form of trauma alluring?”

“That is not it. Not in the slightest. That is not who I am, Everett!”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“ _Aaagghhh_ ,” huffed Katherine Elizabeth standing up and grabbing her shoes, “there’s just no reasoning with you, is there? You can’t see past your own assumptions to see that I’m only trying to get Goren the help he needs.”

“Then leave it to me and the other trained professionals.”

“Go to hell.”

“Stay away from him, Miss Basil.”

Katherine Elizabeth didn’t say another word as she stomped out of the director’s office.

“Have a nice day,” Fray called out to her as the door swung shut. 

***

It was beautiful, the way the dark brown haze of the city sky gave way to the deep purples and pinks of the rising sun, mesmerizingly beautiful, in fact. How he had gone so long without noticing before, Bobby truly never knew. 

“ _I guess being locked up inside for two years will do that to you_ ,” he thought as he sat next to the window in his wheelchair, with his toy penguin, Miss Alex, perched on his lap.

The Basil Institute was run like a well-oiled machine. Everything was scheduled to a T but somehow flexible enough to accommodate the individual needs of the residents. Because the bone fractures were still healing, Bobby was allowed to sleep during the day as much as he wanted, hence he tended to wake up earlier in the morning.

He liked the mornings. There were fewer people around and he didn’t have to put up with the tube feedings or therapy sessions. 

Glancing around his room, Bobby noted the contrasting difference between this room and the basement. This room, which had a doorway but no enclosing door, was small but warm and inviting. Eames had found his family photographs and had them framed and hung on the wall next to his bed. There was a myriad of books she had chosen for him from the expansive library the institute boasted. Not that he had bothered to pick one up. They were all in English and he still couldn’t bring himself to break the rules concerning the use of that language. When Eames noticed he hadn’t even touched the books, she started to sit down with him and read to him aloud. 

Eames had been so considerate and thoughtful. Despite returning to work upon their return to New York, she still came and saw him almost every night. The staff at the institute had been kind enough to give her a key card so she could come visit him anytime and wasn’t restricted to visiting hours.

Deep down he knew that he was still imprisoned, this one just had a prettier exterior than the last. At least back in the basement, the rules were clear and easy to follow.

With a sigh, Bobby leaned forward and rested his head against the cool glass of the window pane. He was definitely breaking the ‘don’t go near the doors or windows’ rule. But part of him didn’t care. The part of him that he had thought was dead. The part of him that he still refused to acknowledge.

It hurt his brain, trying to balance his new predicament with the conditioned little boy still at the helm of the metaphorical ship and holding on tightly. Sitting next to the window was a small act of disobedience. But the other rules, like not being allowed to use English, were harder to disregard. He didn’t see himself abandoning those rules anytime soon as their rigidity gave him a small sense of security. Feeling like if he truly abandoned the rules, everything would come crumbling down around him.

His refusal to speak or to engage with others, even on the most basic level, left him with little else to do besides observe his new surroundings. The other residents ignored him for the most part. Whether this was because he didn’t talk to them or because there was such an obvious disparity between their level of wealth and his own, he did not know.

What he did know was that the only person in the building who intrigued him wasn’t a resident at all. On the days he would see her, he was struck by the way she moved and additionally her uncommon beauty and height, which was typical past the six-foot mark as she favored wearing impractical wedge heeled shoes. 

Her manner was one of intriguing contradictions. Most often, her head held high and shoulders back, she moved about with determination and purpose, using her height to both psychologically and physically dominate the conversations she had with her staff. During these exchanges, she seemed to be the epitome of authority. But then, when there was no one around, she would pause and her eyes would lose focus and as if she was momentarily transported away from her body. And it seemed her carefully maintained imposed self-control would slip and behind the facade was a bundle of fluttering nervous energy, her fingers would twitch and her muscles would tense up before relaxing again. 

While she seemed to avoid interacting with the facility’s residents, for the most part, she would always steal a moment to come over and say hello, careful not to touch him or get too close. Inquiring how his day was going as if she actually expected him to respond. Her voice was different than he would’ve expected. It sounded younger, almost breathless. The pitch was definitely feminine, but what made a distinction was the way she spoke. Her cadence quick and her accent indeterminate, though clearly American. Perhaps just a side effect of being exposed to the multicultural melting pot that was New York City.

During these brief encounters, he would try not to stare at pale and fine pored complexion, the oval-shaped face with its small, sharpish chin framed by the iron imposed curls of dark-brown hair that went down past her chest. Trying to compare her every feature to the picture of the girl back in his Daddies’ home, he would focus on her pert, bow-shaped upper lip, her long-ish button nose that suited her so well, and the dimple that only briefly appeared on her left cheek when she smiled. There was no denying that the resemblance was striking.

But her most arresting feature by far was her eyes.

Set off by a dark liner, frequently styled so the lines extended past her lids into a winged point, her almond-shaped eyes were large, cat-like in their piercing blue intensity. Though on occasion, depending on the light in the room, the color of her eyes seemed to shift from a blue to a grey and even sometimes a green. But the color of her eyes was not what intrigued him the most, rather it was something they lacked, and that was pity. 

Pity, it was an emotion that he was tired of seeing in the eyes of every man and woman he encountered, including Eames. And Miss Basil was the only person that looked at him with such an intelligent scrutiny that there left room for little else. 

“ _My sister would not pity me_ ,” Bobby thought to himself, placing a mental tally mark in the positive side of the pro/con list, next to the marks for her being the right age, race, and gender. 

“ _The odds are very much against that_ ,” a voice reminded him. “ _We’ve done the math already. Even if that girl was still in the U.S. and still alive, given her race, age, eye color, hair color, and sex there is only a 1 in 2 million possibility that Miss Basil is that same girl._ ” 

“ _But there’s still a chance_ ,” thought Bobby, “ _I only need just the smallest piece of evidence_.”

“ _And then what_?” the voice inquired.

“ _And then…_ ” Bobby’s thought’s trailed off because he suddenly became extremely tired as if he had been up all night. 

*knock knock*

Turning his head to see the source of the light tapping on the doorframe of his room, Bobby realized Miss Basil was standing in the empty doorway. 

“Good Morning Bobby,” she said with a smile, her dimple appearing for just a split-second, “may I come in?”

Lifting his hand, he made the sign for ‘yes’.

Striding in, she said, “I hope that means yes because I’m coming in any way.”

She paused next to him as she folded her arms and took a moment to look at the sunrise through the glass window panes.

He had never been this close to her before and he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Where he sat, he caught a hint of her scents and his keen nose was quick to sort them out: a whiff of coconut shampoo, a crisp pear scented perfume, so very light. He frowned when he also detected other less pleasant smells of a nightclub: smoke, sweat, alcohol, and something else that made his stomach turn, cocaine. That last smell stood out from the rest. It was a sweet yet chemically organic odor that he recognized from his early days in the Narcotic division. Perhaps not his sister if her body could handle such a potent toxin, and he mentally put a tally mark in the negative column. 

Opening his eyes, he noticed how her dress today was not at all her usual professional look but a tightly fitted blue and yellow dress that looked more appropriate for a night on the town rather than a visit to a mental facility. And the way the dress accentuated the length of her limbs and the soft curves of her body paired nicely with the with the cut and tailored lines of the bodice that made her small breasts look amazing in what had to be a push-up bra. Clearly, she had dressed to impress. And had Bobby imagined himself to still be a sexual creature, he would’ve found her attractiveness tempting. But as things were, the pretty young woman before him didn’t even cause a ripple.

“I’m not often awake to see the dawn,” Katherine Elizabeth said with a sigh. “It’s mesmerizingly beautiful, isn’t it?”

Nodding his head in agreement, Bobby grimaced at the feel of the feeding tube rubbing against the back of his throat making him cough.

“Everything alright, Bobby?” she asked him. She’d started calling him ‘Bobby’ a few days before instead of ‘Mr. Goren’ and he wasn’t sure why. But he didn’t mind, she was family after all.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Anything you need?” Miss Basil prodded.

Bobby shook his head no, careful this time to jostle the feeding tube as little as possible.

“Very, well then, I should probably get going before Dr. Fray comes along and rips me a new one,” she said with just a slight hint of a grin on her face and Bobby wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not. Either way, she looked like she could go and get some rest. There was sight bruising under her eyes and he wondered when was the last time she had slept. He was beginning to worry about the well-being of his benefactor.

“I just wanted to check in while I had the chance,” Miss Basil continued. “It might be a few days until I’m able to come around again.” 

She paused, waiting for a response that never came. After a few minutes of silence, she said goodbye, turned and left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciate :D


	2. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine Elizabeth Basil doesn't shy away when things get rough... or rather she doesn't shy away from getting rough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I don't lose any readers because of this chapter. But you all have read Inopinatum Tribulationis, right? It's not like you didn't already know what type terrible acts I enjoy writing. Either way, I hope you get a kick out of this chapter. It's been a while since this story had any smut.

Exiting the institute, Katherine Elizabeth rubbed the spot between her brows in consternation as the light from the rising sun hit her squarely in the face.

“ _What am I doing_?” she asked herself. “Ma _ybe Fray is right, maybe I should just stay away_.”

The problem with staying away was that she hadn’t been able to do it and she had tried. Something about the damaged detective drew her in like a compulsion. Whatever it was she wished she knew, then she could address it head-on and not be constantly perplexed by it.

Breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly, Miss Basil turned and started walking towards home. The Brownstone she had inherited when her grandfather had died was only about three-quarters of a mile away, and if she walked quickly, it only took about ten minutes to get there. 

However, she walked home without any sort of her usually deliberate momentum. Her gait was listless as she hung her head and stared down at the cracks in the pavement as she passed over them. The truth was she was exhausted. She’d been up for days and she’d probably make it a few more days if she didn’t manage to get to sleep soon. 

The bouts of insomnia plagued her whenever she started to obsess over a challenging issue. Case in point was that damned detective. Another reason to stay away from the institute. Normally she would just do her best to wear herself out until she finally managed to pass out but she knew that wasn’t going to cut it this time. 

What Katherine Elizabeth needed was a release. Pulling out her phone, she quickly texted a familiar number:

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/138641398@N05/25946401427/in/dateposted-public/) 

***

When the knock came at her door, Katherine Elizabeth practically ran to open it.

“Well,” said the man on the other side, his deep voice colored by his British accent, “aren’t we the eager one?”

“Did I say you could talk?” she snapped as she grabbed him by the front of his black button-down shirt and pulled him into the house.

“Oh,” he questioned, “is that the game we’re playing today? I thought—“

Whatever the man thought was interrupted by the young woman’s mouth upon his own, her lips pressing vigorously against his. He responded by parting his mouth and sucking on her bottom lip and biting down on it softly.

“ _Mmmm_ ,” she hummed, “let’s take this upstairs.”

Reaching down and pulling him behind her as she quickly ascended the stairs. Once the two of them got to the top, the man grabbed her by the waist and pushed her forcefully against the wall. Dropping his head ever so slightly, it was easy for him to take her mouth in his own again, as his hands began to wander along her sides and descend to grasp her shapely ass.

Lifting her hands up to grasp his face, she pulled him away from her so she could look at him directly in his deep green eyes that were framed by lashes so thick and dark it looked like he was wearing eyeliner.

“Not so fast, [Colin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33514572),” she breathed heavily.

“Can you blame me love?” he asked. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

He brought his hands up to her breasts as started rubbing her sensitive skin through the fabric as he cocked his head to the side in order to nibble her earlobe.

“ _Ahhhh_ ,” she sighed as he moved his mouth, lips, and tongue further downward from her ear, to her neck, to her collar bones, and the curve of her breasts that peeped over the top her dress. 

Reaching up, she ran her fingers through his shaggy black hair before pushing his head down even farther. Colin fell to his knees as he dragged his hands down her body and legs and then back up again as he ran his hands from her calves to the back of her thighs.

Katherine Elizabeth wasn’t one to waste time as she still had a grip on his hair, she brought his mouth to the position she wanted it in. He pushed up the helm of her dress and started kissing the skin of her inner thighs, his corse stubble mildly abrasive, before placing his mouth directly against the core of her body and tonguing the sensitive flesh through the lace of her panties.

Humming with pleasure, Katherine Elizabeth gasped as he pulled the fabric to the side and slide a finger into her and began to lick her clit. Of all the beautiful muscles of Colin’s body, she liked his tongue the most. He ran the flat of it against her before tucking the tip of it between the folds of her labia. Moving his fingers ever so slightly as he curled the tip of it and shuffled it in and out of her pussy. 

However efficient Colin was at sending shivers of liquid heat up and down her spine, Miss Basil wasn’t quite ready to die the little death quite yet. Placing her hands on each of his shoulders, she shoved him away from her.

“We’re making it to the bedroom this time,” she insisted. “I’m not getting rug burn on my knees again.”

“Very well,” Colin replied coyly as stood up but then stooped down a second later, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. A girlish squeal of delight escaped Katherine Elizabeth’s lips as the man bore her through door to the right. 

Tossing her on the bed, Colin asked, “So since you’ve decided to take the lead, m’lady, what would you like me to do next?”

“Strip.”

Sensuously, Colin brought his hands to his chest and began to laboriously undo the buttons of his shirt. 

“No,” came the decree from the bed, “not like that.”

“No?”

“No.”

“How then?”

“You’re not a stripper, don’t act like one.”

“Then how should I act.”

“Like a man, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed, “how foolish of me.”

His motions were not quick but they were steady as he undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt before jerking the tails out from the waistband of his dark jeans, revealing his dusky treasure trail. A dark smile crossed her lips as he removed the leather jacket he’d been wearing along with the shirt. 

As he unbuckled his belt and undid the button on his pants, she stopped him, asking, “Is it just me or did you forget to put on underwear today?”

Colin didn’t reply he just grinned as he bent down to remove his shoes and socks. Once that task was complete, he walked over to her. With only his pants remaining, the top undone and the belt lose in the loops, all she would have to do is give them a tug and they’d be on the floor. 

Sliding her hands against his bare chest, grazing his nipples with her nails, she pulled him down on top of her. He started to kiss her deeply once again as he ground his hips into hers. Using her left arm and right leg for leverage, she flipped the two of them over so she was now sitting astride his legs.

“I believe I am overdressed for this occasion, wouldn’t you say,” Katherine Elizabeth said as she reached behind her and unzipped her dress.

“Overdressed, underdressed, I don’t give a damn,” came Colin’s reply as he helped pull the garment over her head. “Just as long as one of us is naked.”

Beneath her dress, Miss Basil had been wearing a lacy lingerie type corset that was custom tailored to cover her long torso and perfectly align with the top of her matching boy-short panties. Colin snaked his hands over the intricately woven fabric until he reached the cups of the negligé and folded them down to reveal her small breasts. Propping himself up so he could latch onto one of her nipples, he licked and tongued the erect bud while softly pinching and rolling the other nipple with his hand. A moment later he switched sides and repeated his actions there.

Katherine Elizabeth sighed softly as she brought her hand down to his face and lifted his chin.

“You ready?” she asked. 

“Are you?” Colin replied huskily.

“Just give me a moment,” she said as backed herself off of the bed and walked to her dresser.

“A moment to do what?” 

“You’ll see.”

They hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights when they entered the room so the only light was a few smatters of sunlight coming through the closed blinds and residual light from the hallway. Katherine Elizabeth was in the shadows as she shifted around so Colin could not quite see what she was doing. But when she turned around, she heard him gasp.

“No,” Colin said firmly.  “Not a chance. I am not doing that. Take it off.”

Grabbing a tube of lubricant from the drawer, Katherine Elizabeth sidled over, the strap-on phallus gentling swaying in the harness strapped around her hips. 

“I thought you said it was my turn to lead,” she pouted. 

“Leading is one thing,” he said as he pointed to the fake cock attached to her groin, “that is another.”

Moving to get off of the bed, Colin was stopped by Katherine Elizabeth’s hand on his chest. All pretense was gone from her face as she said coldly, “We both know you’re not going anywhere, Colin. Get back on the bed and lie down.”

“Katherine Elizabeth, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking. Back on the bed Colin.”

Meeting her gaze, the man eased himself back on the bed.

“Turn over,” the woman commanded.

When the man on the bed decided he’d rather stare her down than comply with her direction she didn’t try and persuade him. Instead, she stretched out her hand and grasped a hold of his bare ankle.

“Would you like me to fuck you face to face? Because I will but your legs better be flexible.”

She was on the bed and between his legs at this point, her hands had worked their way up and firmly gripping the band of his pants.

“So do you want to do it the easy way or the hard way?” she smirked.

Pursing his lips, he seemed to have steadied his nerve and made a decision. Moving his hands down to hers, he attempted to remove them from his trousers. But it became apparent that she was stronger than she looked.

“Please,” she said in a mocking tone, “do you think I’d get this far without being certain I could follow through?”

Hoisting his hips up by utilizing the hem of his jeans, she flipped him over. His efforts to stop her simply aiding her ability to move him about. With one hand she pulled down the pants so they rested just below his round and firm ass cheeks, the other hand was ensnared in his hair as she gripped it tightly, pulling his head back.

“No,” Colin cried, his voice strained. “Stop. Let me go.”

“And where would you go,” she said menacingly as she momentarily paused to wonder if he’d bleed once she started to fuck his ass. 

“ _But if he’s not ready, it’s really no fault of mine_ ,” Katherine Elizabeth thought as she forced herself inside of him.

As the dildo slipped through the tight ring of muscle, Katherine could practically feel how tight he was due to the resistance she was experiencing at the other end. This particular toy was double ended and while one end was in him, the other end was in her cunt as it looped around to stimulate both her clit and her g-spot. The harness was simply just to keep it steady once the real pounding began.

A ragged breath emanated from the man in front of her, as she started to rotate her hips and move the toy inside of him.

“Do you like that, whore?” she asked him. “Hmm, slut? Do you like being penetrated?”

The garbled breaths from Colin did little to deter her actions if anything they only spurred her on as she tightened her already firm grip and repeated forced the length of the fabricated cock into his tight hole. Slamming her body into his as she stroked in and out of him. 

At this point he was verbally confounded as his cries of ‘no’ were punctuated with whimpers and cries. 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it,” she severely. “You can’t go walking around with a face like yours coupled with that ass and think no one is going to notice that you’re a filthy fucking whore.” 

“Katie, please,” he begged between breaths, “I can’t take anymore. Stop.”

“My name,” she hissed slowly as she slammed into him on every syllable, “ is Katherine Elizabeth, not Katherine, not Kathy, not Kate, and certainly not Katie.”

This vulgar dance continued for more than a few minutes as she sodomized him while pulling at his hair and grabbing onto his hips as she forced him back and forth. Her body covered in a light sheen of sweat as exerted herself.

“ _Aaaaaaa_ ,” Colin cried. The constant wail he was emitting began to escalate as her strokes came more quickly and forcefully. And within a few seconds, he was screaming. 

“That’s right,” she said in a hushed and jagged voice, “scream.” The muscles in her legs shaking as she orgasmed. 

Finally, with her target achieved, she released Colin and rolled off of him and onto the bed beside him, breathing heavily, closing her eyes and gulping down air, utterly spent. It was the release she had been looking for and this moment was one of complete bliss. It felt like a high from which she would never come down. 

Laying still for a few moments before getting up and hoisting his pants back up around his waist, Colin began to gather his clothes strewn about the room. Katherine Elizabeth barely seemed to notice until he sat back down on the bed to put on his shoes and socks.

She put a hand out, resting the back of her fingers against his lower hip and asked him, “Did I use enough lube this time?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, “but um…”

“Um, what?” a hint of concern creeping into her voice.

“You were a bit more forceful than last time.”

“Was I? I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. You could’ve told me to stop, used your safe word.”

“Do you even remember my safe word?”

“No,” Katherine Elizabeth giggled, “but I know it’s something weird.”

Colin got up and walked around to the side of the bed she was laying on and unhooked the harness from her hips before removing it and the toy and setting it on the floor before covering her with a blanket. He leaned over and gently brushing her hair out of her face, gave her a light kiss on the forehead.

“Don’t you worry about it love,” he said. “Just get some rest.”

“ _Hmmm_ , you’re the best,” she replied. “The money is on the table next to the door and—“

“And don’t forget to lock it on my way out. I know,” he said finishing her sentence.

“Thanks, Colin.”

“As always, it was a pleasure.”

The handsome man stood up to leave and as he was about to close the door, Katherine Elizabeth called out to him drowsily,“Tell me what it is or it’s going to bother me and I won’t be able to sleep.”

Shaking his head in with silent laughter he said, “Platypus. Now go to sleep, Miss Basil. I’ll see you soon.”

However, there was no response from the figure on the bed as she had already fallen into a dreamless sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts on Katherine Elizabeth now! Do you think she's the type of person that should be hanging around Bobby?


	3. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little progress is better than no progress.

Forced to lay flat on his back, Bobby squeezed his eyes shut as tears ran down the side of his face. Anxiety and mortification took a hold of his lungs and he couldn’t breathe as the firm hand came in contact with the skin behind his left knee, pushing the limb upwards. Covering his face with his hands, the pressing need for oxygen forced him to inhale with a shudder.

“ _Please_ ,” he thought wretchedly, “ _don’t do this. Don’t touch me. I can’t…_ ”

The plastic feel of the material underneath him was an all too familiar sensation as it triggered the memories of his make-shift mattress in the basement of his Daddies’ home. 

“Shhhh, Robert,” said the athletically toned man with brown hair buzzed down to reduce the appearance of his notably receding hair-line, “just relax and breathe. I know it hurts but you are doing so good.”

Maybe if his competent and rational-self was lurking about, Bobby would’ve found the strength to maneuver away from the man’s vile grip, but with the conditioned little boy in control, all he could do was lay there and submit to unwanted touches.

“Hands down please, at your sides, palms flat on the table,” the man instructed in a firm manner.

Bobby shook his head ‘no’, not caring that it jostled the tube that remained in place at the back of his throat.

“The sooner you stop resisting, the sooner we can be done,” the man promised, his voice still edged with strict direction. “Now, breathe in slowly, just like we talked about, and relax those muscles.”

Finally, Bobby relented as he allowed the physical therapist, whose bronze name tag was emblazoned with the name ‘[TOM](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33514656)', to direct his actions. Wiping his tears away the best he could, he placed his hands at his sides. Then he brought his lower leg down and all the way back up so that his toes brushed the palm of the man’s other hand that was held out at an angle that required him to fully extend his leg muscles to reach it.

“There we go,” Tom praised as he coached. “Good. Now nine more reps just like that. Eight. Extend those muscles and breathe out, then relax and breathe in. Seven. Use that diaphragm. Six. Excellent. Five. Keep it going, halfway there. Four. Perfect. Three. Just a few more to go. Two. Don’t forget to breathe. One. And we’re done with that leg. Great job, buddy. Now time for the other leg.”

As the trainer moved from one side of the raised bench to the other, Bobby wished that the casts had never come off his legs in the first place. Now that they were off, it meant he had to go to physical therapy four times a week in order for him to regain flexibility and mobility to his damaged appendages. Not that he really cared about regaining mobility because, after all, the Daddies hadn’t wanted him walking around in the first place. 

The sessions involved far more touching than Bobby preferred. Each time skin-to-skin contact was made, he couldn’t help to both physically and mentally recall the way his Daddies had touched him and the way it had felt as they pushed his legs back so they could penetrate him.

Thinking of the Daddies was something he tried to avoid. He no longer believed that they were capable of coming back for him, but he did not doubt that they would if they could. Being without them left him feeling deeply conflicted.  He was both relieved to be away from the pressure of having to be obedient but also guilty that he had betrayed them, however inadvertently. 

Seemingly oblivious to his patient’s distress, Tom slid his muscled hand under Bobby’s right knee and lifted it up about a foot off of the table. As he did so, the hem of the shorts Bobby was wearing drifted down a few inches and exposed some of the light scarring on his inner thigh. Whimpering, he tried to push the fabric back over the exposed flesh, not wanting  Tom to see intricate letters, but gravity won out as he was ultimately unsuccessful.

“Hands flat on the table please, Robert,” ordered the trainer gently as he observed the burned design and the attempt to cover it. Surely, the man knew by now what the letters spelled, _Meretrix,_ and their meaning, Whore. It was what Bobby had become and his cheeks burned in shame though the man pretended not to notice. 

“Ten reps here we go.”

Once the exercise was complete, the physical therapist praised Bobby for his cooperation and efforts. 

“We’ll have you back on your feet and walking in no time,” the Tom exclaimed cheerily. “Now, what do you say to getting those sore muscles in the hydro-tub?”

Despite feeling sullied from the training, Bobby met this suggestion with an eager affirmative response. The hydro-tub was the only part of physical therapy he enjoyed. Though he only placed his lower legs in the water, the jets seemed to just ease all the pain and tension away from his sore bones and aching muscles. 

Though the hydro-tub was big enough for him to completely immerse himself in, he refused to do so because it would involve his clothing getting wet. Which then would require that he get assistance in removing it. No, it was just easier for him to sit on the edge and stick his legs in while the machine was running.

After helping his patient over to the tub, Tom pulled out an iPad and began to record his notes from the session as Bobby enjoyed the momentary relief provided by the pulsating water. As the machine was fairly loud, neither Bobby nor Tom heard the faint sound of a pair of heeled shoes tapping as they came down the hall.

“Tom,” a feminine voice called out in greeting. “How are you? How’s the new baby? Been keeping you and Breanna awake all night?”

“Oh,” Tom frowned ignoring her friendly-sounding inquiries, “Miss Basil. No one warned me you were going to be in today.”

“Yes,” replied Katherine Elizabeth somewhat tersely, “well my name is on the building after all. So I figured I was allowed to drop in every once in a while.”

“Of course, Miss Basil, I didn’t mean—“

“No, I knew what you meant, Tom,” the friendly tone of her voice now gone cold, “No need to explain. I’ll let you get back to work. I’m just going to wander over and maybe have a nice chat with Mr. Goren.”

Not waiting for the trainer to respond, Katherine Elizabeth sauntered over to the hydro-tub where Bobby was sitting.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked courteously.

“ _Please do_ ,” thought Bobby as he gestured to the ledge across from him. He hadn’t seen the proprietor in over a week and he had begun to worry that she’d lost interest in him. He certainly hadn’t lost any interest in her. 

Her overall appearance had significantly improved since the last time he’d seen her. The dark circles under her eyes were gone. She no longer smelled of a sordid nightclub. And the state of her hair was neat and tidy along with the dark blue dress she wore with cap sleeves and a knee-length skirt that flared out around her waist. Pulling off a pair of silver stilettos that matched the thin belt around her middle, Katherine Elizabeth sat down on the ledge and swung her legs around to submerge them in the rolling water. 

Unlike his legs, the smooth skin on her long sinewy limbs was absent any signs of damage. Though if he was being perfectly honest, he didn’t expect there to be any. The likelihood of her being his sister seemed improbable. But then again, the feeling that she could be still haunted him. If he was still a detective, he would want proof to validate or disprove his wavering assumption, then maybe he could let the matter rest. A DNA test would work, but obtaining a sample and submitting it to a lab appeared to be an impossible task. 

“ _Hmmm_ ,” she moaned, “this is lovely. Serves me right for wearing these ridiculous shoes though. But I have a bit of a weakness when it comes to pretty things. Goodness knows my grandfather wouldn’t approve. Of course, I do a lot of things Grandfather wouldn’t approve of, which irritates Dr. Fray to no end, let me tell ya.”

It was then a chiming sound started emanating from her person and Bobby was surprised to see her pull a cell phone, sheathed in a sparkly case, out of her skirt pocket. Mobile phones were not allowed in the facility. The staff were prohibited from carrying them and the residents were banned from having them at all. To see Miss Basil so flippantly disregard the rules just reinforced his impression that she relished being insubordinate to social formalities. 

He watched her as she entered the passcode for the phone: 2-7-8-9, only noticing because the numbers made the shape of a triangle as she punched them into the phone. Then after flipping through her messages, she sighed and placed the phone back in her pocket. 

Looking up at him, her face brightened as she asked with a smirk, “Do you disapprove as well, Bobby?”

Smiling softly, he shook his head no. 

Flipping the back of her hand through her hair to toss it behind her shoulder, Katherine Elizabeth leaned backed and snorted in mirth.

“Good. I’m glad. It’s nice to be around someone who doesn’t take after the esteemed Dr. Fray,” she said. Then pausing for a moment and cocking her head to the side, she declared, “You know what, Bobby?  I think Grandfather would’ve rather liked you.”

***

“Doctor Fray,” Eames called as she entered the institute’s lobby and waved the director over to her.

“Alexandra,” Fray greeted the lieutenant as he walked over, “you’re lucky you caught me. I was just on my way out for the evening. How have you been doing?”

“Oh, you know, running down leads, getting warrants, interviewing suspects, doing mounds of paperwork. All the usual business that comes with being a cop. You?”

“Well, we certainly have the mounds of paperwork thing in common,” Fray said with a small smirk. 

“Listen, I’m glad I caught you,” Eames confessed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“And what might that be?”

“As you know I’ve been coming to see Bobby nearly every day, and it just seems like he’s not making any progress. He still hasn’t said a word to anyone. He still refuses to eat. He is listless and despondent most of the time. The staff has told me that he refuses to engage in any meaningful way with those around him. I was just hoping you might have some answers for me. When should I expect to see some of my old partner back?”

“Alex, it might be wise for you to manage your expectations. Right now Robert is functioning at a diminished capacity and it will take him time to adjust. It’s not something that can be measured or predicted.”

“What do his therapists say?” Eames asked.

“Due to patient confidentiality, I can’t tell you that,” Fray responded. “But even if I could, there’s really nothing to tell.”

“Have you been in contact with his previous therapist, Doctor Gyson?”

“I have. I spoke to her at some length and we both agreed that her coming to see him could very possibly be detrimental. At the time, Goren had a hard time trusting her and it created tension between them. So I doubt he’ll trust her now.”

“Well how about one of the forensic psychiatrists we worked with while at major case? Could one of them potentially get through to him?”

“Perhaps, but I assure you, our in-house therapists and counselors are more than capable of treating Goren.”

“Just humor me, okay Doc? I’ll send you some names for you to look over. Just think about it. Maybe having a previous connection will help pull Bobby back into the world of the living?” Eames petitioned. 

“Very well. Send me an e-mail and I’ll look into it tomorrow. For now, I’ve best get going. Good night Alex.”

“Good night, Doctor Fray.”

***

The sounds of music playing drifted in through the open doorway of Bobby’s room as he sat on his bed. He savored music, having heard very little of it in his Daddies’ home. The melody was easily recognized as Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, such a beautiful and yet sorrowful piece. It stirred memories and feelings around inside that he didn’t know still existed. 

In a building full of the wealthy and privilege, it was no surprise that at least one of the residents was a classically trained pianist. With the music therapy room just down the hall, Bobby often heard the sounds of instruments being played. One of his counselors mentioned it to him as a way to facilitate movement and provide a non-verbal outlet for the expression of emotions and feelings. 

Besides music therapy, there were also rooms for art and recreational therapy. Though none of these appealed to Bobby. It just took too much effort to even think about trying to engage “the process,” too consumed in his own thoughts to turn them outward.

His eyelids felt heavy and he closed them as he listened to and absorbed the music. Focusing so intently on the notes being played, this time he couldn’t help but to hear the sounds of footsteps coming his way. These steps were lighter than the usual evenly paced steps of the attending aides.  No, these were determined and sure, ones he was all too familiar with, Eames.

He opened his eyes and looked up with a smile as his old partner entered the room. Reaching over to his nightstand, he picked up the book Eames was in the middle of reading to him and handed it to her. The green cover was worn and the gold-pressed lettering nearly faded beyond recognition, _The Secret Garden_ by  Frances Hodgson Burnett.

“Okay, maybe there’s a little progress being made,” Eames said as she sat down next to him and opened the book to where she had left off the night before last.

Furrowing his brow in puzzlement, Bobby didn’t quite understand the connotation of her statement. Was it directed at him?

Seeing the confusion on his face, Eames dismissed his worries by beginning to read, “Chapter 14: A Young Rajah. The moor was hidden in mist when the morning came and the rain had not stopped pouring down…”

Leaning up against her, Bobby laid his cheek on her shoulder and watched the words play out as she gave them voice, her fingers light and quick as they turned each page. 

 

 


	4. Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby's new psychiatrist is a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debating whether or not to tag the other L&O fandoms in this work because Emil Skoda is all three ... hmmm? suggestions?

Despite the autumn equinox had come and gone, the New York fall days were unusually warm and humid. As a result, most of the residents and staff were still wearing light summer clothing. The residents were allowed to wear everyday clothing as long as it fit the modest guidelines of the institute. And the day-to-day staff typically wore a type of fitted scrubs that came in black and gray with the exception of the office assistants and therapists, who dressed in a formal and professional manner.

It was what set Bobby apart from everyone else, his clothing. What few articles of clothing he had when he arrived in New York had not been sufficient. His wardrobe had been augmented by pieces that had been left behind by other residents but it was haphazard and ill-fitting. It made him feel alienated in what was already an awkward situation.

Eames hadn’t noticed, at least he didn’t think she did. But why should she? She had already gone above and beyond for him, for which he’d be eternally grateful. It was selfish of him to find fault with his attire. After all, it was far better than only being allowed to wear little boy briefs.

It was only after he had resigned himself to wearing other people’s cast-offs that he had come back to his room, after spending the afternoon sitting peacefully in the garden, to find a large white lidded box waiting on top of his bed. He had looked for a card or note but he couldn’t find one. 

Unsure of what was in the box or who had left it for him, he lifted the lid and found an assortment of carefully selected and skillfully constructed garments, all of which fitted him perfectly. Not wanting to appear ungrateful, he carefully placed the items in the drawers of his dresser.

Dark gray slacks covered his legs as he stared down at them and the leather toes of his black shoes poked out from underneath. Not that his shoes got much use, despite the physical therapy, he still wasn’t walking. The staff encouraged him to try and move around using a walker or forearm crutches. But due to his perceived muscle and bone weakness, he was scared of falling and wouldn’t attempt to move on his own. It was just another point the therapists would lecture him on during their sessions. 

Bobby was alone in one of the therapy rooms waiting for one of these sessions to begin. It was unusual for them to leave him waiting. Normally, a psychologist would already be present by the time the staff brought him to the room. But not today. Having been left alone in a closed room was beginning to make him nervous. 

Even though he was anxious, the patient tried not to show it. When he heard the door opening and shutting, he did not turn around.

“Goren,” a gravely, almost muffled, resonating voice greeted him, “it’s nice to see you again.”

Turning his head to see the man who had spoken, Bobby recognized [Dr. Emil Skoda](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33515112), a medically trained forensic psychiatrist that had worked with him and Eames a few times when they were on the Major Case Squad. Skoda walked around to where the patient was sitting on a couch and sat across from him, a coffee table separating the two men.

It struck Bobby to see how much the man had changed in the years since he’s seen him last. The balding man’s dark receding hair had thinned and turned gray. A pair of round spectacles sat atop the bridge of his nose. There were more lines on his face but the deep-set kind gray eyes were the same.

“What has it been?” Skoda asked as he placed the papers and a small box he’d been holding on the surface before him, “Ten years? Give or take a few.”

Too stunned to respond in a meaningful way, Bobby sat there staring at his former colleague. Of all people, why was he here? The two of them never had much of a connection besides work. It didn’t make sense why Fray would seek the assistance of outside services. Perhaps, Eames had something to do with it.

“Times have definitely changed since then,” Skoda commented as he opened what appeared to be a magazine, laying it flat on the table. “Back then coloring books were for kids. But now they make them for adults.”

Looking down, Bobby noticed the intricate designs on the page in black and white. Skoda opened up the small box and pulled out some colored pencils before ripping out a page and starting to fill in the blank spaces.

“I hope you don’t mind if I color during the session. It helps me concentrate. It’s a bit like meditation. Relieves stress and anxiety if you can believe it. Besides, it’s not like I’ll be doing much else. From what I hear, you’re not much of a talker anymore.”

The sounds of the pencil scribbling on the sheet paper and the way Skoda filled in each section with color was almost mesmerizing. After a few minutes, the doctor sat up from the bent position he was in and stretched his back. 

“Man, I am too old for leaning over like that. I’m just going to sit on the floor.”

Bobby watched as the man stood up and picked a pillow up and dropped it on the floor next to the coffee table before sitting on it. Picking up a pencil, he once again began to color. 

“You’re free to join me if you’d like.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Bobby thought, “ _this is a little odd, even for me. But what the hell, it’s just coloring_.”

Slowly placing his hands against the table, he used it for stability as he lowered himself to the floor on his knees. Then reaching out, he took the coloring page Skoda offered. The psychiatrist’s eyes flicked over Bobby’s exposed wrist and the scar that had been left there. Self-consciously, he pulled his sleeves a fraction of an inch down before picking up a pencil and beginning to color.

A few more minutes passed in silence before Skoda spoke again. 

“Do you remember that last case we worked together?”

Ignoring the question, Bobby continued to color.

Pulling out a blank sheet of paper, Skoda wrote on it before placing it on the table next to Bobby. Looking over at it, he saw that the doctor had written the words ‘yes’,’no’, and ‘unsure’ on the paper.

“Sorry, I forgot for a moment that you don’t like to talk. I’ll just leave this here and if you want to answer my question you can. If not that’s fine too.”

Unable to decide whether or not to respond to Skoda’s question, Bobby kept his eyes down and focusing on what he was doing.

“If I remember correctly, that last case was when a psychologist paid a narcotics cop to murder a doctor. That was a bit of a convoluted case. And then the guy tried to go with the insanity defense saying he had delusional disorder persecutory type. Didn’t you completely sink his whole defense by figuring out he was just trying to impress a younger woman he’d fallen in love with?”

Pausing for a minute, Bobby took a moment as he pieced together a few fractured memories. Had that been him? … It sounded like something Goren would’ve done. Taking the pencil he was holding, he lightly tapped the ‘yes’ on the paper. Lifting his eyes to meet Skoda’s, he was rewarded with a kind and gentle smile.

For the next hour, the two of them continued with their leisurely activity while the psychiatrist talked about old cases and asked the odd question here or there. Skoda had slowly and carefully lowered the patient’s guard when he asked, “Something happen to your hand?"  
Dropping the pencil he was holding, Bobby put his left hand in his lap and clenched it tightly, out of Dr. Skoda’s sight. 

“ _Of all the things to ask about, why my hand_?” Bobby wondered silently. 

He could clearly remember the feeling and the sound the bones had made as they were broken. It had been before his first birthday in Chicago and he had said ‘no’ … well, he had said more than just ‘no’. _Samenta,_ roughly translated it meant a bundle of twigs but both of the Daddies knew the word he was going for, faggot. 

Why, for the love of all that was holy, had he said that?

“ _Because_ ,” said the voice in his head, “ _you didn’t want to be with them. You didn’t want to be used like a piece of meat_.”

Glancing down at his hand, Bobby relaxed it only for him to see the stark outline of the scar running down the base of his fingers onto the palm. That too had been a painful injury, that time of his own making. Causing it had led him to losing his bed, his books, his penguin, and the use of his legs. 

“ _The knife was an accident_ ,” the voice reminded him, “ _not your fault. None of this was your fault_.”

A single tear ran down his cheek.

“Goren,” Skoda asked, “you still with me?”

Brushing the moisture away from his eyes, Bobby nodded in the affirmative.

“Good,” replied the doctor. “It kind of looked like you got lost there for a moment.”

Stretching out his right hand, the patient tapped the word ‘unsure’ on the paper.

“Are you hearing voices?” Skoda asked in a firm but gentle manner.

“ _No,”_ Bobby thought tapping the paper.

“Having conversations with yourself by chance?”

“ _Unsure… Yes,”_ tapped Bobby.

“And are those conversations positive or negative?” Skoda asked.

It wasn’t a yes-or-no question. If the psychiatrist was trying to trick him into speaking, then it wasn’t going to work. Bobby simply scowled at the man sitting across from him.

“Never mind,” said Skoda dismissively. “Forget I asked.”

***

A knock came at Fray’s office door, to which he responded, “Enter.”

“Dr. Fray,” said Skoda as he stepped into the room. “I just finished up my session with Detective Goren and I’d thought you like to know how it went.”

“Of course,” replied the director. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you. I just wanted to start out by saying if you wanted to go take a road-trip to Illinois and murder the bastards who did this to him, I’d love to ride shotgun, because those sick fucks deserve to burn in hell for what they’ve done. Goren used to be a freaking genius when it came to detective work. And now… now it’s as if he’s barely human.”

“I should not be amused by your proposal to kill Barrett and Kipling but it’s hard not to share the sentiment,” Fray said with a half-smile. “But their fate is not up to us. Goren, however, is another matter entirely. You said you think he’s barely human. What other observations have you made.”

“Well,” replied Skoda pulling out the page Goren had colored, “he’s depressed if his use of color is any indication. Blues, grays, and black being his colors of choice. Then there’s his inability to stay within the lines. Which brings me to the matter of his left hand. The way he was holding the pencil indicated a lack of dexterity. What’s happened to it? Was there an injury or are his symptoms psychosomatic?”

“Injury,” answered Fray. “Many of the bones in that hand had been broken and healed during his captivity. And there was a more recent deep incision made on the inside of the hand shortly before he was rescued. If he’s having trouble moving it, I’ll be sure to let our physical therapist know so he can work with it.”

“What did Goren do to warrant those types of injuries?”

Sighing deeply, Fray replied, “It’s impossible to know. Goren is obviously not talking and Barrett and Kipling were not required to give a statement as an admission of guilt before their sentencing. So all we have to go off of is circumstantial. But my guess is any punishments incurred were due to minor infractions.”

“I know I read the police report and psych evals before agreeing to meet with him. But seeing him is an entirely different bucket of worms. I mean, holy shit, I’m surprised he made it out of there with his wits still intact.”

“Intact? What do you mean intact? The man is clearly broken. Completely dissociated from who he once was.”

“No, not completely,” replied Skoda. “One of the first things I asked him about was an old case we had worked on. He clearly remembered it.”

“Remembering is not the same thing as being able to associate with a past event.”

“I asked him point blank if he recalled that _he_ sunk the defense’s case and he responded yes.”

“Wait, he actually acknowledged something he had done previous to his abduction?”

“Yes! So we know at least a part of him remembers and connects with being a detective.”

“I’ll have to commend Lieutenant Eames then. It seems she was right that having a previous connection would help Goren be less apprehensive.”

“He and I also discussed the type of self-talk he’s engaging in.”

“Oh?” Fray inquired. “And how did you do that when he’s only willing to answer yes-or-no questions?”

“I’m a forensic psychologist,” Skoda responded. “Non-verbal communication is kind of my thing. Anyway, I could see Goren’s attention drifting off but his facial cues indicated that he was sullen but not necessarily unhappy. He answered ‘yes’ when I asked him if he was talking to himself. So whatever part of his psyche is doing the talking, it’s clearly having a positive impact. Honestly, I’m skeptically optimistic that he might be able to come back to the land the living.”

“For his sake, I certainly hope you’re right,” replied Fray.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear everyone's take on this chapter and where they think this story is going... As the author, I know the general direction but I'm running into a few issues with what should be happening to the characters in between the major events. So any feedback and suggestions would be greatly appreciated.


	5. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby meets someone unexpected and it triggers memories of his Daddies.

Pulling his knees to his chest, Bobby attempted to rub out some of the residual soreness remaining from the morning’s physical therapy, which had been traumatizing as usual. While the rest of the residents were receiving their meds, he was left alone in his room.

“ _I could really go for some Oxy right about now,_ ” he thought wistfully. “ _Hell, I’d even take some Valium if they offered it to me.”_

Rationally, he knew the medication would just make him sick and he didn’t fancy vomiting and getting bits of curdled caloric supplement stuck in his nasal cavity. Still, it would be nice not to have to feel every ounce of pain his neurons were capable of detecting.

It would also be nice not to be being fed like a prisoner at Guantanamo. But that would mean he’d have to start eating real food again. The problem with food is that it scared him to even think of it.

He’d gone so long without it, who was to say that he wouldn’t have a negative reaction to what his body chemistry viewed as a potential toxin if he tried eating again. Besides, the physical therapy sessions were tough enough as it was without compounding his situation by throwing in a new variable.

“Robert,” Melissa, one of the nurse’s aides, called out as she knocked on the door frame before entering the room. “How are you doing? Your legs still hurting from training?”

Her sudden appearance had caught him unawares so he was too startled to respond to her questions with even the briefest of hand signals.

As she pulled his wheelchair over to the side of the bed, she secured the locks on the wheels before patting the seat and saying, “Jump on in. The barber is only here twice a month and that wild mane has got to go.”

“ _Barber?_ ” Bobby wondered has he ran his hand through his hair, “ _No one told me anything about getting a hair-cut.”_

"Come on, Robert,” directed Melissa, “I want to get you down there while everyone else is getting their mid-day meds.”

Wary of doing something new, Bobby reluctantly pulled himself up and onto the chair before Melissa wheeled him out of his room and down the corridor. He didn’t really care what his hair looked like but he also didn’t want Melissa to get mad at him for not following instructions.

On the main floor, there was a multi-purpose assembly room which included a small stage and a few rows of seating. This is where Bobby supposed the movie nights, small concerts, and other events were held. Next to it was a small preparation room, with a small counter in front of a large lighted mirror, an empty garment rack for hanging clothes, music stands, extra stacks of folding chairs, and an en-suite bathroom off to the side.

“Here we are,” Melissa said brightly as she pushed Bobby’s chair before the mirror and applied the brakes. “Eric is the best. He’ll have you cleaned up in no time. Now, where did he run off too? Give me a second. I’ll be right back.” Patting his shoulder, she exited the room only to be accompanied back to the room by a thin and slender man with bright eyes and brilliantly white teeth.

When Melissa had told him that the barber was here, Bobby had been expecting an older man with a smock and thick hairy forearms, like the one he had gone to every month since he was he was a kid. But Eric did not resemble that type of man in the slightest. The ripped jeans he was wearing were practically painted on, they were so tight. Instead of a smock, the man was wearing an army green tank top, which matched the army boots he was wearing. The sides of his head were buzzed short before abruptly transitioning to long hair that had been slicked back.

“Well hello, gorgeous.” The pitch of Eric’s voice high and almost feminine, “who do we have here today?”

“This is Robert,” replied Melissa. “He’s currently non-verbal but that’s no excuse to talk his ear off.”

“Oh, honey,” Eric replied mockingly, “as if I would ever.” Pulling a black cape from off of the counter, he whipped it over and secured it around Bobby’s neck.

Bobby was doing his best to keep calm while his thoughts were going haywire. Looking straight ahead in the mirror at his reflection, a quick and panicked internal dialog commenced.

_“He’s gay… Like my Daddies... ”_

_“Yes, it would seem so, but don’t worry. Melissa is right here and it’s fine. I doubt there’s a single malicious bone in his body. You know that not everyone who is gay is like Lewis and Clark.”_

_“He called me gorgeous.”_

_“He was just being friendly.”_

_“I don’t want him to touch me.”_

_“He’s just an ordinary man, Bobby.He’s not going to hurt you.”_

_“I’m scared.”_

_“Deep breath, Bobby. You’ll be fine.”_

But steady breathing was beyond him at this point. His lips were squeezed shut as he tried not to hyperventilate through his nose.

“Alright, handsome...” Eric looked at Bobby in the reflection of the mirror and smiled as he placed both of his hands on either side of patron’s shoulders. “What are you looking for? Just something simple and clean?”

Not really being able to comprehend the meaning of the man’s words, Bobby simply nodded yes.

“Okay, let’s get started then,” Eric said as he fitted the clippers with a guide comb and flipped the power on.

The heavy electric click of the tool triggered something in Bobby’s brain and the memories of a previous hair-cut came flooding back in a rush that could not be stemmed. Suddenly it was as if he was back in Chicago.

Back in that house.

Back with his Daddies.

He could practically hear their voices and feel their touch.

_“We needed some insurance.”_

_“You can imagine what would happen if everyone were to see it,” Daddy added to Father’s words. “You remember making that video, don’t you Bobby? You were such a sloppy fuck. On your hands and knees, with your mouth around my cock and your ass thrust up in the air, begging to be taken. Those cute red and blue undies of yours hanging off of your ankle.”_

_“I told you, that if you were to leave, I was going to send that video to everyone you know. But if you didn’t talk, the video would stay private,” Father joined in again._

_“Please,” Bobby pleaded, “I haven’t spoken a word. I promise. I’ve been a good boy.”_

_“No,” replied Daddy. “No, you have not. You left the house without permission.”_

_“It wasn’t me,” cried the boy. “Someone came and took me away! I would never leave you! Please, I’m so sorry.”_

_“It’s too late for apologies now,” responded Daddy. “You have been blatantly disobedient. Breaking even the basic rules like not going near the doors and windows. And then there’s all the English. We didn’t spend all that time and effort teaching you Latin so you could go mucking around with that bastardized excuse for a language.”_

_“And that’s not it, is it?” asked Father. “You’ve let that man back in your head haven’t you?”_

_“No, Father,” Bobby replied in the smallest of whispers._

_“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Father raged. “You know perfectly well that he’s supposed to be dead. But he isn’t, is he? Goren is back and trying to convince you that you’re some sort of man and not the dirty fucking whore we all know you to be.”_

_“You are a naughty boy, Bobby,” said Daddy, his voice stone cold. “You deserve to be punished. Do you hear me? PUNISHED!”_

Ripping the cape off from around his throat, Bobby pushed himself up and out of his chair, much to the astonishment of Melissa and Eric. He tried to take a step forward but his leg caught on the footrest of his wheelchair and he came crashing down, hitting his head on the edge of the counter as he fell.

“Eric!” Melissa yelled as she rushed forward to untangle the patient from the chair, “go get help!”

The barber ran out the door in search of assistance.

“Shit!” Melissa exclaimed.

A small laceration on Bobby’s forehead was bleeding profusely and there was blood everywhere. She stood up and turned around for just a second so she could grab a towel to staunch the bleeding. But a second was all the boy needed to be up on his knees and over to the small bathroom, where he slammed the door behind him and locked it tight.

“Robert,” she shouted as she grasped the handle and tried to turn it, “unlock this door immediately.”

Wiping blood out of his eyes, Bobby looked around for something to block the door from opening. He was in luck, one of the folding chairs had been left in between the sink and the shower stall. Grabbing it, he jammed it underneath the doorknob, effectively barricading himself inside the small bathroom.

It seemed like hours had past when in actuality it had been less than a minute. But in that minute he had forgotten to breathe and so his lungs were clamoring for air as he drew in a ragged breath. That breath turned into another and another as they evolved into gut-wrenching sobs that tore through his throat before escaping his lips.

How could he of been so disobedient? How could he let Goren back into his mind? Hadn’t he killed that man enough times already? Fuck! The Daddies were right. He was a dirty whore who should be punished.

The shower stall was bigger than his closet back home but not by much. Turning off the lights and climbing in, Bobby shut the shower door. Squeezing his eyes shut and wrapping his arms around his legs, he rocked back and forth.

 _“It won’t be long_ ,” he thought to himself. “ _The Daddies will come back for you. You just have to be a good and patient boy. Prove to them that you are capable of being obedient and all will be forgiven.”_

***

“Melissa,” Dr. Fray said with a frown as he and a few other members of the staff stood around outside of the bathroom door trying to get it open, “what were you thinking? Altering Goren’s schedule without speaking to a supervisor. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I know,” Melissa sniffed as she brushed tears away, “I just thought it’d be nice for him to have a hair-cut.”

“You can’t just spring these types of unexpected situations on patients, especially our more sensitive ones like Goren. We have set schedules for a reason,” Fray lectured.

“Well,” replied Melissa, “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Which is why you should always talk to a supervisor before making unilateral decisions.”

“I’m so sorry, Doctor Fray. Do you think he’s going to be alright? I heard the shower turn on. Do you think he’s trying to drown himself?”

“Good Lord, I hope not. He hasn’t been suicidal since before he left Chicago but it’s still a risk. We need to get that door open as quickly as possible but he’s jammed it somehow and the hinges are on the other side, so we can’t just pop those off. Worst case we’ll just have to chop the door down with a fire ax but I’d like to avoid that if possible.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“For now, probably best just to go home for the day and regain your composure. And pray Miss Basil doesn’t find out you were involved.”

***

When Eames had gotten the call that Bobby had locked himself in a bathroom at the Basil Institute jumped in her unmarked vehicle and switched on the lights and sped over to Brooklyn. Being a cop had its advantages on occasion. It took her less than twenty minutes to arrive but every second of that was torture. How could something like this have happened? She thought he would be safe there.

Running into the building, she nearly tripped on the plush carpet in the entryway. But she was in far too much of a hurry to let that stop her. Turning the corner she saw Fray pacing outside the doorway of the room.

As he led her into the room,Alex asked breathlessly, “How did this happen?”

“Goren’s had a bit of setback,” replied Fray.

“I didn’t ask what had happened, I asked how?” Eames insisted.

“We have a very nice young man who comes and cuts the residents’ hair. Neither he or the nurse’s aide involved had any idea that Goren would have such a negative reaction.”

“Negative reaction to what?”

“Anything inferences I could make at this time would just be conjecture. ”

Eames groaned. If she was going off of stereotypes, a nice young man who cuts hair was probably gay. Was it possible that he was the reason Bobby had a meltdown? It troubled her to even consider that perhaps her old partner had become homophobic.

Changing gears, she asked, “How long has he been in there?”

“A little over an hour,” answered Fray. “We’ve been trying to get him to come open the door but he won’t respond. But at least we know he hasn’t killed himself.”

“Well, that’s a relief. But how do you know? You don’t have cameras in there, do you?”

“We can hear him crying.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. Do you mind if I try and talk to him?”

“Of course,” replied Fray. “That’s why I called you. We’d prefer to lessen the traumatic impact, if possible.”

Going over and standing next to the door, Eames knocked.

“Bobby,” she called out, “can you come unlock the door please?”

There was no response. Just the steady sound of water falling, punctuated by the intermittent sobs of a broken man.

“ _Dear Lord_ ,” Eames prayed glancing heavenward. It was then she noticed the ceiling tiles. Motioning one of the staff over, Eames instructed him to bring her a ladder. Minutes later, the overhead tile had been moved and she had crawled up into the floor cavity, despite Fray’s instance to let one of the institute’s workers perform the task.

Lifting up a tile that led down into the bathroom, Eames called down, “Bobby, any chance you will turn on the lights and help me down from here?”

There was no response but at least the sounds of Bobby’s cries subsided. Pulling out her flashlight, Eames cast the beam around in order to find a place to lower herself. It took more gymnastic work than she expected, but she was able to find footing on the sink before stepping onto the toilet seat and then onto the floor. Walking over to the light, she switched it on before turning and opening the shower door.

The man shivering on the shower floor was sopping wet and completely naked. He had managed to pull or rip off every stitch he had been wearing as everything, shoes included, were puddled around him in the shower stall. Moving to turn off the spigot, Eames found that the water temperature was completely frigid.

“Oh, Bobby,” she sighed, “what are you doing? You hate small spaces.”

“Lieutenant Eames,” Fray called through the door, “is everything alright? Can you let us in?”

“Yes,” she called back, “I’ll let you in in just a moment. Can you send someone to get some towels and a warm blanket?”

Then turning her attention back to her old partner, who had yet to move a muscle, she reached forward to brush the mangled hair off of his forehand. But the moment she made contact with him, he jerked away as if she had burned him.

“ _Shhhhh…_ ” she hushed him. “It’s okay. It’s just me. It’s just Alex. You’re okay.” She could see the shallow gash on the right side of his forehead but it wasn’t bleeding and there were no other noticeable injuries, for which she was grateful. She was also thankful that the nasal-gastric tube was still in place.

Reaching over to grab what was left of the shirt he’d been wearing, she wrung it out and went to cover his crotch so that he might retain a bit of his dignity. Whether or not he knew her intentions, he let his leg slide down, as she leaned down to place the fabric around him.

It was the first time she’d seen the intricate scar on his leg in the flesh and she noticed for the first time that it was quite a lovely design. Something that surprised her, given the fact that she knew it meant a dirty word in Latin. What surprised her more was the look Bobby gave her as she met his eyes.

His deep brown eyes were pools of misery. His blue-tinged lips moved slightly as a few words tumbled forth, the sounds muffled and unrecognizable. Clearly, he was incapable of withstanding the forces that opposed him.

Even more disturbing was how the man currently cowering in front of her had nothing in common with her former partner, the articulate and seasoned detective. It was as if he fully expected her to take advantage of his vulnerability. It was painfully clear, Eames realized, that at that moment, if she had wanted to, she could very easily manipulate him into anything, including the most deplorable and depraved sexual acts imaginable, and he would do nothing stop her.

“ _Hell_ ,” she thought, “ _he’d probably go along without a hint of complaint. I’m sure Kipling and Barrett were very thorough in his conditioning. I just wonder how they went about it._ ”

The depraved thoughts fled her mind as Fray insistently knocked on the door.

“Alexandra, are you going to open the door?” Fray called through the wood.

Sliding the chair out from under the knob and turning the lock, Eames let them in to dry Bobby off, wrap him in warm blankets, and send him off to bed.

***

Flumping down in the oversized chair in Fray’s office, the Lieutenant buried her face in her hands.

“ _Aagghh_ ,” she groaned, “that was so bad. Tell me honestly, Doc. On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad was it?”

Coming around to crouch down in front of her, Fray took Eames’s hands in his own.

“Hey,” he said comfortingly, “Alexandra, listen to me. It really wasn’t that bad. Okay?”

“No,” she replied shaking her head and pulling her hands away. “I don’t want to be coddled, just give it to me straight.”

“Honestly then, it was only a 6… maybe a 7.”

“You can’t be serious, he took off his clothes and almost gave himself hypothermia.”

Fray laughed and Eames looked up in confusion. “My dear lieutenant,” he said amused, “this is a mental institution. A resident stripping down is a common enough occurrence that it’s a mere flash in the pan. Besides, he got naked in a shower, a conventional place for nudity.”

“With the lights off?”

“Less conventional but not unheard of.”

“But he hurt himself…”

“He tripped. From what Melissa tells me, it didn’t seem intentional. Besides, it was only a minor laceration. Like I said, it really wasn’t that bad.”

“Barricading himself in a bathroom is bad.”

“And I’m not saying it wasn’t. But I assure you that, in comparison with other incidents that have happened, it’s really not that bad. We didn’t have to break down a door or take him to the hospital.”

“You don’t understand, Bobby was hurting himself.”

“A cold shower is unpleasant to be sure but —“

“Goren’s claustrophobic. He has been for a very long time. And considering it was one of the ways Barrett and Kipling punished him, I don’t understand why he would recreate those circumstances.”

“How do you know they used his claustrophobia to punish him?” Fray asked.

Eames sighed as she closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. “I went to the house.”

“You did? When?”

“One of the days I was in Chicago. I went there with Voight and Olinsky. I just wanted to look around. And there was this… this closet, at the top of the stairs. It was small and dark, padded walls to make it soundproof, and could only be opened from the outside. Its purpose was obvious.”

“What else can you tell me about the house?”

“The upstairs was modern and chic and the basement was a barren hellhole, a metal table, and a hose next to drain. Along the wall was a length of chain bolted to the floor where they kept him tied up like a dog.”

“So you believe he was trying to recreate the circumstances he experienced while in that house?”

Nodding in affirmation, Eames didn’t have the words to adequately describe the thoughts running through her head.

Taking out a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Fray carefully explained, “When someone like Goren experiences trauma over an extended period of time, it is extremely difficult for him to find equilibrium. He constantly feels off balance. But steadily, we’ve been working on returning him to solid ground. And so far, we’ve actually had quite a bit of success.

“However, setbacks are to be expected. Some minor thing can trigger him and it’s as if he never left that house in Chicago. His behavior instantly reverts and he attempts to recreate those circumstances in which he was held. A terrifying experience where he is unable to think rationally.”

“I just,” Eames faltered, “I just want my friend back.”

“And I would love to return him to you,” remarked Fray. “But the fact of the matter is he might never be the same. The best we can do is help him remember the man he used to be and help him to avoid those triggers.”

“Triggers like Latin?” Eames asked.

“What makes you say that?” inquired Fray.

“The scar on his leg and the many Latin books in that house,” she responded. “And now that I think of it, when I was alone with Bobby in the bathroom, he was muttering something under his breath and it could have very well been Latin. Do you happen to know anyone who speaks Latin to come down and talk with him?”

A scowl flittered across Fray’s face when he said, “We don’t know for sure that Barrett and Kipling spoke with Goren in Latin. Besides, even if they did. That sort of immersion therapy can backfire. Instead of drawing him out, it may as well have the opposite effect. Same goes for treating him, in the same manner, as one would a child. We want to distance him from those experiences, not reinforce them.”

“It might be worth a try,”

“I’m sorry, Alex. But no. I am just not prepared to take those types of risks with the mental stability of one of my most vulnerable patients. I hope you understand.”

The director’s tone was gentle but firm, his decision was final. Thanking her for her assistance, Fray said his goodbyes and escorted the lieutenant from the building.


	6. Different Motivations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone does things for different reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I change POVs a few times in this short chapter. As always, a change of perspective/scene is indicated by the use of three stars ***
> 
> It occurs to me that I tend to post these chapters around 1:00 AM. So hopefully everyone has a change to read this in the morning :D

The carpet against his skin was actually rougher than the smooth concrete floor of his basement but it made little difference to the boy, as he curled up in the corner with Miss Alex, his beloved penguin, covering themselves with a sheet he had pulled from his bed. Three days ago he had allowed them to swaddle him up and take him back to his room. He’d fallen asleep then, though he didn’t exactly know how, as soon as he had awakened, he had pulled off his clothing, except for his underwear, and spent the vast majority of the time huddled in the corner, away from the doors and windows. 

He was determined to be a good boy this time and follow the rules to the letter. The not hurting himself and being quiet were rules that he had no problem following. Not going near doors and windows was tricky, this place was full of them. The one rule he had the hardest time following was the no English rule. He needed to avoid the language but everyone around him was speaking it, all the time, and he could see it where ever he looked. It had to stop. So when people spoke to him, he covered his ears. When he saw the written word he closed his eyes.

His behavior had left the staff completely flummoxed. Even Dr. Skoda efforts had been ineffectual. When the psychiatrist had come to speak with him, Bobby had utterly refused to listen or respond in any meaningful manner. 

“ _Doesn’t matter_ ,” Bobby thought, “ _I just have to be patient. The Daddies will come for me if I can just be patient and follow the rules_.”

A soft and gentle voice spoke inside his mind, “ _you know they aren’t capable of coming to get you. What you need to do is listen to me and trust that the workers here are only trying to help you._ ”

“ _No_ ,” the boy pouted, holding on more firmly to the mind and body of the man he inhabited, “ _it is my task to be a good and obedient boy. You can just go back to the hole you’ve been hiding in_.”

“Bobby?” Miss Basil’s voice penetrated the thin layer of fabric.

Started by her sudden arrival, the air caught in his throat as the sound of her footsteps indicated that she was approaching him. A few second’s later, the edge of the sheet was lifted and the searching blue eyes of the proprietor met his own. 

“Bobby,” she asked reproachfully, “what are you doing?”

Swiftly, Bobby pulled the sheet back down, clasped his hands around his ears, and begun rocking back and forth within his make-shift cocoon. 

***

One of the members of the security team had alerted the director when Miss Basil had arrived at the institute. In fact, he had security notify him every time she came or left the building. Ever since she’d trespassed in his office and nosed through his papers, he was reluctant to even think about trusting her to behave herself. 

Knowing the first thing she’d do was pay Goren a visit, he imperturbably made his way to the elevator and up to the residential quarters. And he was there, waiting for her, as she came storming out of the patient’s room. 

“Everett, would you mind coming and having a word with me,” she practically hissed before leading the way over to the back stairway that was only used in case of emergencies.

As the door closed behind them, Katherine Elizabeth seethed, “You told me to leave him alone and let the professionals handle it. I trusted you and your team to do their jobs and now he’s worse off now than before he came here! Can you explain to me why that might be?”

“You haven’t exactly left him alone,” Fray interjected. 

“He just happens to be around when I come to do my routine visits. I’m entitled to doing a walk through and making sure things aren’t being mismanaged,” she replied defensively.

“And your ‘routine’ visits have multiplied exponentially since Goren was admitted. Don’t tell me it’s a coincidence. Besides, you are not entitled to involving yourself in the individual cases.”

“Stop trying to deflect,” remarked Basil, “answer my question. How did this happen?”

“Miss Basil, it’s really not your place to be asking these types of questions. I can’t allow you to just run around like—“

“Like I own the place,” Katherine Elizabeth interrupted. “Everett, I’m sure you don’t need to be reminded that I have every right to terminate employees or maybe even shut this whole institute down altogether.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t tempt me. This is my facility, after all. I have every right to know what happens within these walls. Tell me what happened.”

“No.”

“No?” Katherine Elizabeth’s voice was so heavy-laden with malice, that Fray knew that if he wanted to keep his job, he would have to tread very carefully. He only had one option, invoking the memory of Roger Basil.

“Miss Basil,” Fray said calmly, “your grandfather always put the patients’ well-being first. I let you bully me into extending Goren a residency here but I will not allow you to bully me into compromising his well-being by sharing sensitive information with someone who is not directly involved in his care. You may own the building and the soil upon which it is built but you do not own the people inside it.”

There was a slight twitch in the corner of Katherine Elizabeth’s mouth as she pulled out her phone and started flipping through it. 

“I may not have the education or training to run this place,” the proprietor said, “but I do have the qualifications to be involved in a patient’s care.” She held out the phone for Fray’s inspection.

Upon examining the documents on the screen, the director looked up and asked, “You went through CNA certification.”

“And,” Miss Basil said as she leaned over and swiped the screen to the left, “you’ll see I’ve also taken the training in compliance with HIPPA.”

“This is fake.”

“I can assure you, it is not.”

“You did this so you could work with Goren?” Fray asked skeptically. “He’s peaked your interest that much?”

Shrugging, she said, “The poor guy has been through so much. I can just imagine how he feels like the monsters under his bed are real. And he’s too petrified to move and all he can do is wait until they come along to snatch him up. For some odd reason, I feel compelled to help him.”

“Since when have you ever cared about anyone other than yourself?” Fray asked reflexively. He immediately regretted voicing his thoughts aloud because for a split second Katherine Elizabeth had let her guard down and he could see the barb cut into her.

But like a champ, she persevered, “Just tell me what happened.”

Rather reluctantly, he said, “We’re not sure exactly what happened but while he was getting a haircut, something triggered him and he locked himself in a bathroom for a few hours.”

“Mother of Sin,” she exclaimed. “When was this?”

“Three days ago,” he replied sullenly. “Since then he’s barely moved off the floor. He recoils when he’s touched. And he refuses to listen when anyone speaks to him.”

“What about that shrink?” Basil asked. “What was his name? You know the one who does forensic work for the police department. He seemed to be making some headway.”

“Who told you about Dr. Skoda?”

“Everett, please, just answer the question.”

“Skoda dropped by but nothing came of it.”

“So that’s it. You’re just going to let him suffer for days on end.”

“I’m merely allowing him to make his own choices. This is just a momentary setback. It will pass.”

Sighing heavily, Miss Basil relented, “I suppose you’re right. I just wished you had told me when it happened.”

“I will try and keep you more informed from now on, if that appeases you,” Fray offered.

“Very well,” Katherine Elizabeth replied this time with the hint of satisfaction in her voice as she turned to leave. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go attend to our patient.” 

***

Stepping carefully into the patient’s room, Miss Basil took off her shoes and sat down next to the huddled form under the sheet. 

“ _Screw Fray_ ,” she thought, “ _I care about people other than myself_.”

Taking a piece of blank paper she had brought with her, she tore it in half.

“ _I care about lots of things and people_.”

Placing an old phone book she’d brought along on her knees, she placed the paper on top and began to draw.

“ _Grandfather said sometimes it’s best to focus on the needs of others rather than your own_.”

A minute or two later, her drawing complete, she placed it on the floor and slid it partially under the sheet.

“ _And that’s what I’m doing. I’m serving others._ ”

Picking up another piece of paper, she began to draw another picture. The first one having had disappeared underneath the cover of the fabric.

“ _I’m not doing this because I am intrigued by the amount of damaged this man as sustained_.”

The second picture joined the first.

“ _Grandfather would want him to get better. And so do I_.”

By the fourth picture, she’d lured the patient out from under his protective covering. Putting a finger up to her lips, she gave him a coy smile. She wasn’t going to start talking and scare him away.

For the next hour, the two of them sat quietly together. Miss Basil churning out one cheerful picture after another. Mostly animals, she kept the subject matter of the drawing neutral and pleasant. Eventually, Bobby took a piece of paper and slowly drew a gray blob with a tail. Katherine Elizabeth wasn’t sure what it so supposed to be but at least it was something.

***

After the proprietor had left for the day, Fray went to Goren’s room to check on him. He didn’t want to admit to being wrong about her, but maybe her influence on the patient was doing some good. 

Collecting the stray pieces of paper and markers off the floor, Fray glanced over at Goren. Bobby was holding one of the drawings Miss Basil had made for him. The director held out his hand for it and it was reluctantly handed over.

It was a drawing of a happy looking emperor penguin waving its flipper. Fray could see why Goren liked it. It looked very much like the stuffed animal he had brought with him from Chicago. Propping the piece of paper up against one of the framed photos on the nightstand, Fray motioned for Bobby to get into the bed before turning out the lights and leaving the room. 

Looking through the rest of the pictures, on his way down to his office, Fray could see the rigid lines, solid colors, and semi-geometrical lines that encapsulated the young woman’s style of drawing. It had been quite some time but he still remembered receiving a picture or two she’d drawn for him.

Closing his eyes briefly, he could practically see his old friend Roger entering the building, his small young granddaughter running ahead of him, her pigtails flying. In her hand, a picture she had colored just for him, her friend Everett. 

It was such a sharp contrast to the cunning creature, sick and twisted, self-absorbed, without a sympathetic bone in her body, she had become. After Roger had died, she had little time for the workings of the institute and what time she had was spent criticizing and second-guessing every move that Fray made.

But maybe, just maybe, there was something about Goren that reminded her of the kind-hearted girl she had once been.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/138641398@N05/41023271922/in/dateposted-public/)


	7. A Lecture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goren gets called to the Director's office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter... for once.

Serving as the director of the Basil Institute, had its ups and downs. The sheer responsibility could sometimes prove to be overwhelming. Everett Fray often felt like the whole operation hinged on his ability to reliably determine the correct course of action to take for every situation that arose. Therefore, he was not in the habit of being wrong.

When it came to the care of their charitable endowment patient, Fray was absolutely positive that he had made the right determination in the level and type of treatment Goren was provided. However, certain aspects needed adjusting.

“Susan,” Fray paged his secretary, “will you have Hernandez bring Robert down to see me?”

“Right away, Doctor,” came the response.

It had been a week since the haircut fiasco and Goren had just started to listening and moving around on his own again. The setback being temporary was just another thing about which Fray had been right. This, of course, only fueled his confidence in his own abilities to help the damaged detective.

The man’s bones had healed and he was quickly approaching the approximate timeline in which he should start walking again. Unfortunately, according to Tom, the physical therapist, Goren was extremely unwilling to actively participate in his own recovery. _What as the expression he’d used? Ah, yes. Like leading a horse to water_. Well, Fray was about to motivate the horse to drink.

The soft knock at the door proceeded the orderly as he wheeled the patient into the office.

“Thank you, Juan,” Fray muttered dismissively as he got up to shut the door behind the worker.

“Robert, I’m glad to see you’re back up and functioning again. There were a few things I needed to discuss with you.

“First off, I wanted to apologize for the incident last week. Had the staff followed protocol, it would not have happened. As the director, I take full responsibility. To rectify the situation, I see no other alternative than to take on certain aspects of your treatment myself. I personally will see to it that your treatment is re-aligned and stabilized.

“Up until now, given the circumstances precipitating your arrival, you’ve been given more leeway than the other residents. A misjudgment on my part. Again, I hope you can forgive me.”

By this point of Fray’s lecture, because was what it was becoming, rather than a conversation, the director had walked around the patient and stood facing the other man, leaning up against his desk for support.

“As you know, emotions can tend to be a double-edged sword, especially for us men given the current societal constructs at play. But I wanted to stress the importance of expressing your emotions, however they may present themselves. By expressing our emotions, we can learn more about them, what precedes their occurrence, and how to handle them. Part of the process, here at the institute, is learning how to handle our emotions in a safe and controlled manner.

“Now, the other day. You were feeling emotions that became too stressful for you to handle and the manner in which you reacted was, to put it simply, dangerous. That’s not necessarily something we want to repeat, is it?”

The director paused and waited for a response. Not wanting to prolong the lecture more than necessary, Bobby quickly made the tapping sign for ‘no’.

“And,” Fray resumed, “like any other sort of dangerous behavior, it has its consequences.”

That certainly caught Bobby’s attention as he warily met Fray’s gaze.

“Yes, I’m certain you are all too familiar with facing difficult consequences. But never fear, I’m not talking about anything drastic. Simply a small rectification in the manner in which the staff has been conducting your day to day activities.

“Your physical therapy and cognitive behavioral therapy sessions will remain unchanged. Other daily routines such as meals, showers, bed-time, et cetera, will also be unaffected. However, seeing that my staff cannot be relied upon to keep you out of trouble, whatever extraneous time you have will be spent here with me, in my office.

“Have I made myself clear?”

What was clear to Fray was that Goren was all too reluctant to answer. But finally, the patient raised his hand and made the knocking motion for ‘yes’.

“Wonderful,” remarked the director as pulled out a tray table and set it before Bobby. “We’ll start right now, shall we? You can begin by working on the dexterity of your dominant hand. Tom mentioned it’s still has been giving you some trouble.”

Pulling out a box of markers, Fray set them out on the table, along with blank paper, coloring pages, and a small ream of newsprint paper with blue and dotted lines, like the type used by small children to practice handwriting. Goren looked at him incredulously. 

“Come now, Robert, writing exercises can help you regain some of that fine motor control. Though if you’d rather just color or draw, that’s fine too. You’ll be here for a while, so  you might as well make use of time.”

Walking back around his desk, Fray took a seat before pulling out his own papers and shuffling through them before turning to his computer. The transition from analog to digital had been a difficult one for him and he tended to keep the facility’s records both on paper and on the institute’s server. Eventually, he picked up where he had left off but he kept glancing up to check on Bobby.

Though Goren was perfectly capable of sitting in silence without moving a finger for extended periods of time,  however, it seemed boredom had gotten the best of him as he had picked up a marker. Awkwardly holding the writing utensil, he had begun to color in one of the black and white pictures that had been provided.

Fray smiled inwardly. The initial step seemed to be going well. Not only that but, considering the amount of pressure he was under, not only from Miss Basil but the NYPD as well, it was imperative that the patient not have any more setbacks. 

Roger’s granddaughter was certainly stirring up things at the institute. The staff weren’t used to seeing her this often and they had begun to express their concern, worried she might interfere with their ability to do their jobs. Or worse, worried that she might actually fire one of them. Hell, he’d begun to worry as well. It was best if he could manage to keep her away. 

Knowing Katherine Elizabeth tended to avoid him when she came to visit, Fray decided keeping Robert at his side could reduce her visits both too the institute and to the patient. Goodness knew what sort of influence she was having on him. He was more fragile than he looked, if that was possible, and Fray did not trust the proprietor nor her intentions, no matter what she said to the contrary. 

Maybe once Goren started talking again, Fray could better assess the patient’s cognitive capacity and evaluate whether visits from Miss Basil were prudent. Oh, speaking of talking, there was something he had forgotten to mention.

“Robert,” said Fray as the patient glanced up at him, “I forgot to mention. If ever you would like to leave my office, you only need to tell me. Simply make a verbal statement saying you’d like to leave and you’ll be free to do so. Understand?”

It wasn’t that Fray had expected a verbal response, but he certainly did not expect the response he got. Instead of knocking ‘yes’ or tapping ‘no’, without looking up, Bobby lifted his right hand and extended his middle finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know I said only one more chapter until the BIG one... but I changed my mind about this chapter. It was going to be longer but I decided to split it up into two chapters.
> 
> Also, I finally got around to making a banner for this story :D  
> I hope you all like it. Sorry, it's a bit grainy....


	8. Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby learns some new information.

Knowing that one shouldn’t complain and not complaining are two entirely different things. And right now, Bobby felt like complaining. It had been practically a week since he’d seen Eames. She had come seen him once since the “incident” but hadn’t been back since, or at least that he knew. And in the meantime, he had somehow managed to land himself in what seemed to be a permanent detention with Fray. 

It wasn’t that the doctor was unpleasant to be around. Fray was far from disinteresting, it was just that Bobby felt like he was being put in timeout. Despite not having much of a reputation left to sully, it felt humiliating having to go to Fray’s office and color every day like a kindergartener. If there was something Goren hated, it was being treated like a child. And that’s all anyone around the institute seemed to do. Everyone that is beside Eames and Miss Basil.

Katherine Elizabeth had also been absent but her appearances could never be predicted with any regularity. The founder’s granddaughter was an enigma if there ever was one. She had gone from calm to livid in less than a second when she had found him on the floor. One minute she was off scolding Fray and the next she was back, drawing him pictures and sliding them under his blanket as if nothing had happened.

Sighing deeply, Bobby reminisced about the quiet afternoon they had spent together. It was much better than how he would be spending this upcoming afternoon. He was sitting on the floor, watching Tom set up a pair of parallel bars. They would be doing walking exercises today and he was _not_ looking forward to it.

Once Tom had made sure the posts were secure, he walked over to the patient and wrapped a gait belt around Goren’s waist. The belt was merely a preventive measure. It wouldn’t stop Bobby from falling but Tom could then at least slow the fall and prevent injury. The last thing anyone wanted was for another injury to occur.

“Alright,” Tom said, “on the count of three, we’re going to stand up. Ready? One. Two. THREE.”

Pulling up on the belt, Tom assisted in getting Bobby to a standing position. Seeing the patient was unsteady on his feet, the physical therapist went to grab Goren’s elbow. 

“ _I can do it_ ,” Bobby thought, shooing the man away. “ _Just don’t touch me_.”

Slowly making his way over to the bars, he grasped a bar in each hand and pulled himself up to his full standing height, his weight mostly bearing down on his bare feet, his shins and left hand aching with the effort.

“Good,” Tom commended. “Now, try lifting up your right foot, taking a step forward, and placing it carefully down again.”

Following directions, Bobby did as he was told. The pain wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be and the task relatively easy to endure since Tom was only holding on to the back the belt and not actually touching him. He had made a few trips down the length of the bars and back when a visitor arrived.

“Bobby!” Eames beamed. “Look at you. You’re doing so well!”

Blushing bashfully, Bobby looked over at his former partner. Seeing her brought a smile to his face and he could not help but feel pleased to see her, despite her absence. 

“He _is_ doing very well,” Tom responded holding out his other hand that wasn’t gripping the belt. “Hi, I’m Tom. You must be Lieutenant Eames.”

“I am,” she said walking over to shake his hand. “Sorry to interrupt but this was the only time I could get away, now that I’m restricted to visiting hours.”

“Visiting hours?” Tom asked as the same thought crossed Bobby’s mind. “I thought you had a keycard so you could come and go at your convenience.”

“I did,” replied Eames, “but Doctor Fray took it away. He said something about it not being appropriate that Bobby is given preferential treatment.”

“ _Preferential treatment_?” Goren thought angrily, his palms suddenly clammy with perspiration. 

“Wh—“ Tom’s response was interrupted by Bobby losing his grip and falling down on one knee. 

“Oh!” Eames exclaimed as she rushed over to help him back up. “Are you okay?”

“He’s fine,” said Tom. “Just slipped a little. Tell you what, you are welcome to stay a while we finish up here. A little encouragement is always helpful. And then maybe you can take him back to his room for a little one on one time. Would that work for you?”

Glancing at her watch, Eames replied, “I’ll stay as long as I can. I’ve got another half an hour before anyone will notice I’m missing.”

The rest of the therapy session went smoothly and it wasn’t long before Eames was wheeling the patient back to his room. Though he was happy to be spending time with her, Bobby was a little disappointed he didn’t have a chance to make use of the hydro-tub. Maybe Tom would come back and get him after Eames left.

Upon arriving at the room, Eames asked, “I’ve only got about five minutes left. Would you like me to read to you a little bit before I have to go?”

“ _Yes_.” *knocking motion*

“Okay,” Alex said as she sorted through the books that had been moved off of the nightstand an onto the floor. “Why do you have a phone book in here?”

“ _Must’ve been left when Katherine Elizabeth came to drew me some pictures_ ,” Bobby replied silently. 

“Found it,” Eames said as she sat up on the bed, the green covered book in her hands. “Let’s see… what chapter were we on?”

***

Lying in bed, Bobby listened to the perpetual sounds of the orderly walking up and down the hallway, keeping a constant eye on all the residents while they slept. Except sleep wasn’t coming for him tonight. As much as he had enjoyed seeing Eames that afternoon, not getting a chance to relax his muscles in the water had led to cramping later in the day and into the night. 

“Hey, Juan,” came the soft voice of one of the other orderlies. Bobby didn’t know his name since the man was only there at night. “How you doing?”

The soft light entering his room momentarily darkened as the men stood outside his doorway chatting.

“Tired,” replied Hernandez, “and you?”

“Rolled out of bed about an hour ago. Would’ve stayed there longer if I could’ve but I’m still stuck living with my parents up in Astoria, so I’ve got at least 40-minute commute.”

“Man, that sucks. Have you tried finding a place closer to work?”

“No, not yet. I’ve been looking, though.”

“Why don’t you ask Miss Basil,” Juan said with a laugh. “She’s within walking distance and lives in that big old brownstone all by herself.”

The man snorted in derision, “Over my dead body. Could you imagine living with that bitch?”

Hearing them refer to Katherine Elizabeth in that manner made Bobby’s blood run cold. “ _Why do they not like her_?”

“You should’ve seen her here the other day,” replied Juan. “Came in to see Robert and about bit Fray’s head off when she found out what happened.”

“Did she really?” asked the orderly. “Man, where does she get off? Fray is so by the book that I have a hard time thinking anyone would have a problem with him.”

“I know, right? Doesn’t make any sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense is her fascination with Robert. You know what’s up with that?”

“No, but if I had to guess it’s because she likes spending time with a guy that won’t talk back.”

“She certainly wouldn’t be my first pick for a companion, poor guy. How’s he doing?”

“Better. He had physical therapy today so his legs are a bit more sore than usual. So he’s been waking up off and on tonight but I think he’s finally asleep now. I’d take him down to hydro-tub if I could but after what happened to Melissa…”

“No, you’re right. Best to play by the rules, especially with him.”

“Alright man,” said Hernandez, “I’m beat. I’m going to get going. You have a good night.”

“You, too,” came the reply as both men went their separate ways. 

As the men departed, silence once again filled the room as Bobby pondered what the men had said. He wasn’t surprised the staff didn’t like Miss Basil. He had noticed that before, but what bothered him was the way they pitied him. He was sick of it. Besides, if he didn’t want her around, he was more than capable of dismissing the proprietor. He just wished he could dismiss himself from being stuck in that office with Fray.

“Ugh,” he muttered, as he turned over, just wanting to stop thinking and get to sleep. But moving was a bad decision because it triggered another cramp in his leg. Pushing his face into the pillows, Bobby whimpered in pain as he tried to rub the seized muscle. 

Finally, after the intense throbbing had subsided, Bobby lay breathless, staring over the edge of his bed. He reached down to pick up the story Eames had been reading to him earlier. Not intending to break the rules and read the words, he simply wanted to go through the motions, thinking that that might be enough comfort to send him off to sleep. Instead, the book that his hand closed around and brought up to the surface of the covers was the phone book that Katherine Elizabeth had left behind.

“ _I wonder_ ,” said the voice in his head, “ _where she lives. Hernandez said it was close by…_ ”

“ _Not allowed English_ ,” he retorted.

A Brooklyn boy, born and raised, Bobby had always prided himself on knowing the boro well. 

“ _It’s not English_ ,” remarked Goren. “ _It’s just a name, address, and telephone number. Hardly something one would consider English_.”

“ _No,_ ” thought Bobby. But finally, curiosity got the best of him and he opened the book and thumbed over to the _B’_ s.

Alisha Basil  
Alexander Basil  
Antony Basil  
Brian Basil  
Chris Basil  
Daniel Basil  
David Basil  
Dean Basil  
Deborah Basil  
Desiree Basil  
Edythe Basil  
Elizabeth Basil  
Faith Basil  
Frank Basil  
Francine Basil  
Grace Basil  
Harold Basil  
Harriett Basil  
Helen Basil  
Jennifer Basil  
Jessica Basil  
Jonathan Basil  
John Basil  
Joseph Basil  
Lee Basil  
Karen Basil  
Kathleen Basil  
Kenneth Basil  
Kristen Basil  
Lawrence Basil  
Marian Basil  
Marc Basil  
Maureen Basil

Going past the _K_ names and until the end of the page, Bobby sighed, “ _Well, that was pointless.”_

_“It’s an old phone book,”_ replied Goren _. “It might not be under her name. Turn the page.”_

On the next page, the list continued.

Michael Basil  
Paul Basil  
Peter Basil  
Robert Basil  
Roger Basil  
Shirley Basil  
Susan Basil  
Tina Basil  
Todd Basil

There it was, he had almost missed it. _Roger Basil, 867 Carroll Street, (718)555-2789_. Hernandez was right, she was within walking distance of the institute and only a stone’s throw from Prospect Park. It must be a nice place to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the BIG chapter... but it's too long to fit all into one, so I am breaking it into multiple chapters that I will post all at once.


	9. Halloween Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Institute is busy preparing for the holiday. While everyone is distracted, Bobby takes advantage of a rare opportunity he is given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've broken up this BIG Halloween chapter into four smaller chapters. (I'll post the other chapters as I get them all proof-read and edited... though that might take a few days.)
> 
> Lots of internal dialogue in these chapters, so please keep in mind that if a sentence is in _italics_ , then it is the internal thoughts of the POV character.

October 31st, Halloween, and the whole facility was bustling with action. It was still early afternoon but that evening the institute would be hosting a party for its tier 4 and tier 5 patients and their families. Of the five levels of patient care, ranging from tier 1 (acute mental instability, often a danger to themselves or others) to tier 5 (high-functioning mental stability, with only minimal care needed), Bobby tended to be assigned to the second tier.

As a sub-acute mental patient, he did not make the list for attending the party. No, instead he was on Fray’s don’t-let-out-of-sight list. Which meant he got to be down in the lobby and watch the preparations along-side the director. 

It wasn’t that he wanted to go to the party but the idea of seeing little kids all dressed up in their costumes brightened his somewhat dreary mood. Seeing a few small witches haphazardly chase around a miniature Spider-Man would be enjoyable. And maybe Miss Basil would make an appearance.

Glancing over at the front doors, Bobby let out a wistful sigh. 

“Robert,” Fray chided, “as much as I would encourage you to express yourself audibly, I would prefer you not do so when I am in the middle of trying to coordinate tonight’s events. If you want you can wheel yourself over to the craft table and help Susan lay out the different activities.”

Doing as he was directed, he made his way over to Susan, who smiled at him kindly as she handed him a stack of papers to sort and stack on the table. Bobby could tell that she didn’t actually need his help but at least he was doing something other than sitting around like a piece of furniture.

“Don’t let it bother you, hon,” said the secretary, “he always gets a bit testy when there are social events. Not exactly his cup of tea but he means well. Doctor Basil excelled at this sort of thing while he was alive and the director is only trying to honor to his memory.”

Once the table they were working on was finished being set up, Susan thanked him for his help before walking over and conferring with her boss. Bobby couldn’t hear what they were saying but the secretary’s cheery expression seemed to persuade Fray to acquiesce to whatever she was requesting.

“Now then, Robert,” she said, walking back over to him, “since you were so helpful. What do you say I take you out in the courtyard for a bit?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he motioned.

“Okay,” Susan admonished. “But you have to promise you’ll behave. Do you promise?”

“ _Yes,”_ he motioned again.

Grabbing each of the handles to the chair, Susan pushed Goren out into the small courtyard garden.

“ _Brrrr_ ,” she stammered, “it’s chilly out here. Hold on just a second. I’m going to go grab you a jacket.”

Watching her go, Bobby realized this was the first time he’d been outside since the incident, and that had been almost month ago. But it wasn’t something on which he wanted to dwell. He was just glad to be outside.

The little garden was full of greenery, much of which had turned yellow and orange with the passing season. Subtle floral notes filled his nose mingled with the more earth tones of leaves and grass, punctuated by an almost citrusy smell that lingered at the tips of his nostrils. 

“Here we are,” chimed Susan as she returned with a tan jacket imprinted with the Institute’s logo. “I think it’s one of the maintenance guy’s but I’m sure they won’t mind you borrowing it for a little bit.”

Once she was finished helping the patient don the jacket, she said, “Now, I’m going back inside to help finished putting up the decorations.”

Bobby’s face blanched. Was she really going to leave him alone? Fray would not be happy.

The woman must’ve been a mind-reader in a previous life because she said, “Don’t you worry. Doctor Fray knows you’re out here. If you get cold, you can just come back inside. Do you think you can manage to get the door open by yourself?” She pointed at the glass door that led into the hallway that was just off of the main lobby.

“ _Yes_ ,” he motioned.

“Alright then. Take care,” she said as she strode off through the door.

Once she was gone, Bobby slumped down comfortably in his seat, his head thrown back. 

“ _Hmmm… I could stay out here forever_ ,” he thought as he breathed deeply and listened peacefully to the wind rustling the leaves and the babbling sound of the artificial brook. 

The secretary had been right, it was a bit chilly. And it was beginning to seep in through his clothes. So in order to warm up a bit, he began to wheel his chair around on the short pathway admiring the different features. The red brick walls towered above him, and tendrils of ivy had taken hold where ever they could find a crack or crevice in the masonry as it crawled it’s way skyward. The green foliage, partially wilted by the brisk air of autumn, reminded him of the garden from the story Eames read to him. They were almost finished with it, just five or six chapters remaining.

And like the book, this garden too had a secret entrance. One would suppose the glass door that led to the building was the only way in or out. But the wear on the paved stones and the absence of ivy indicated the presence of another door. One that was built to blend in with the wall and look inconspicuous. 

Rolling over to it, Bobby reached out and tried the handle, which had been painted to match the wall behind it. Locked of course. But then again, it was probably only a storage closet for the landscaper. 

“ _So much for satisfying my curiosity_ ,” he sighed to himself, placing his hands in the jacket pockets.

Feeling the cold touch of metal, a line from Tolkien’s _Hobbit_ jumped to mind, “ _What have I got in my pocket_?”

Removing the item from the depths of the jacket, Bobby saw that it was a circular metal band. A silver keyring, actually, adorned with a few keys.

“ _Well, if curiosity killed the cat_ ,” he mused, “ _then it’s satisfaction that brought him back_.”

Fumbling with the keys, they made a light clinking noise as he attempted to figure out which key fit the lock below the handle.

“ _Beginner’s luck_ ,” he thought as the first key he tried slid smoothly into the hole.

Pulling the door open he was greeted by the damp and musky smell of used tools and gasoline. Not surprisingly, there was the typical gardening equipment of rakes, pruning shears, lawnmower, et cetera. However, Bobby was surprised to see another door on the opposite side of the small room. This one was clearly an exit only door, indicated both by the illuminated EXIT sign above it and the heavy-duty push bar attached to an equally heavy-duty metal door.

“ _Okay, now this is just asking for trouble. Time to turn back._ ”

Quickly shutting the door, Bobby spun around and wheeled himself back over to the decorative pond on the other side of the garden.

One minute ticked by, and then another one. Slowly, he shifted his mind from the door onto other matters. Like how furious Fray would be if he knew Bobby had gotten into an area that he shouldn’t have been. Miss Basil would’ve probably found it amusing.

Thinking of her reminded him that he had been in this exact spot when he first met her. Recalling her long brown hair, blue eyes, and a singularly-dimpled smile that had reminded him so pointedly of the picture of the girl he had stared at for hours on end. 

“ _You know_ ,” noted the voice belonging to his former self, “ _we could just ask her_.”

An internal conversation then ensued between the two entities housed in his mind.

“ _No_ ,” remarked Bobby. “ _Besides, I’m afraid to know. What if we’re right?  Could you imagine what it would’ve been like for that girl? Why would you want to put something like that on Katherine Elizabeth?_ ”

_“It’s not that I want her to be the girl. I just want to be certain that she isn’t.”_

_“What makes you she would answer truthfully if we did ask her? A girl, who has gotten away from the Daddies once, would not want to risk getting found by them again.”_

_“They are in prison now. So she wouldn’t need to be afraid.”_

_“And perhaps she’s just a blue-eyed, brown-hair, young women in her twenties. Just like two million other American women. Besides, if I remember correctly, you were the one who brought up the statistical improbability, to begin with_.”

“ _Don’t you want to be sure_?”

“ _Will you stop it_?”

“ _Bobby_ ,” Goren pressed, “ _we have this opportunity. Let’s not waste it. We know where she lives. It’s not that far._ ”

“ _She’d just call Fray to come and get me_.”

“ _That she would. But at least you could ask her._ ”

“ _What if she doesn’t understand Latin?_ ”

“ _Then we’ll have our answer._ ”

“ _No. I don’t want to know._ ”

“ _Bobby_.”

“ _We’ll get in so much trouble.”_

_“You’re scared of Fray. Really? After what we’ve been through.”_

_“It’s not him I’m scared of… I just can’t do it.”_

_“You can. Come on. Let’s go.”_

Over by the exit door once again, Bobby wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten there. Merely the idea of breaking so many rules was making his heart race.

“ _Time to stand up, Bobby_ ,” Goren directed.

“ _I’ll fall,_ ” Bobby protested.

“ _Then we’ll get right back up. Besides, think of it this way. If we find out it’s really her, then imagine how happy it would make the Daddies. No amount of rule-breaking will matter then. They will be too over-joyed to care._ ”

The garden door was open, the exterior door just ahead. 

“ _Maybe this is why they left you, so you could lure her in_ ,” Goren hummed persuasively.

Holding on tightly to the corner of the door frame, Bobby hoisted himself to his feet.

“ _You are one manipulative son of a bitch. Anyone ever tell you that?_ ” Bobby asked himself as he pushed open the exit door.

The smell of stale garbage hit him full in the face as he stepped out into the alleyway behind the building. Taking a few steps away from the dumpsters he managed to hold onto the wall to keep himself upright.

“ _Okay… Okay…_ ” the detective thought staggeredly and in disbelief that he had actually gotten himself outside of the institute. “ _First things first. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves so we need to get rid of the tube_.”

“ _What?! Goren, no. We can’t do that_ ,” Bobby resisted. 

But the boy was no longer in control, as Goren had finally wrestled the proverbial helm away from the damaged victim. Unhooking the tube from around his ear, he pulled.

Coughing and sputtering, he fell to his knees but continued pulling the length of tubing out of his nose. It hurt. He could feel it scrapping his throat, as it made its way out. Eyes watering, he finally managed to remove the entire thing. Waves of nausea directly followed and the contents of his stomach spattered unto the asphalt. Luckily, there wasn’t much blood, and Goren wiped his face on his sleeve as he stood back up before tossing the tubing into a nearby dumpster. 

“ _Time to get going before anyone notices I’m missing_ ,” he thought. “ _Now, which way is north?_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys enjoying the BIG chapter so far? This is only part 1... 3 more to go :D
> 
> Characters in the Chapter:  
> [Robert Goren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509454)  
> [Everett Fray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510513)  
> [Susan Kane](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33513177)  
> Characters Mentioned:  
> [Katherine Elizabeth Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510687)  
> [Alexandra  Eames](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510174)  
> [Lee Barrett](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509922)  
> [Dean Kipling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510054)


	10. Halloween Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outside the walls of the Basil Institute, what sort of trouble will our detective find?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visuals for this chapter look best on a mobile device... sorry to my computer readers in advance as the images are overly large for my intended purpose. (You can narrow the size on your current web-browser window and it will adjust the size to be more manageable... my apologies for the inconvenience.)

Getting over to Carroll Street hadn’t been easy. Despite the detective’s overall confidence, his physical limitations prevented him from moving as quickly as he would’ve liked. In an attempt to avoid attracting the attention of other passersby, he stuck to the backstreets and alleyways as much as possible, where there was usually a wall or fence he could hold onto for support. Crossing the streets was by far the most difficult task he had to surmount.

Almost swearing aloud, he lost his balance and fell to the ground for the fifth time since he began this little journey. Brushing the bits of gravel and dirt off of his hands and knees, he tried to fend off the nagging voice of the boy.

“ _Oh, wonderful_ ,” remarked Bobby sarcastically. “ _This is just great. Just bang us up_.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” he told himself. “ _It’s fine._ ”

“ _We’re bleeding, Goren_.”

“ _It’s just a scrape or two, no big deal_.”

If he had to guess, it’d probably been about an hour since he’d left the institute. They would’ve surely noticed he was missing by now. Fray would’ve called the Eames and she’d have a whole squadron of cops out looking for him. If he was going to accomplish the task, he’d have to act quickly.

Gingerly walking down the sidewalk, he started counting the house numbers, 861, 863, 865, and finally _867 -_ Katherine Elizabeth’s Brownstone.

It was the last house in the row, next to it a fenced yard separating it from the next building that sat perpendicular, facing the park. The ground floor was the typical brown masonry that adorned the pre-war building, the upper levels, red brick. The left side of the house ran parallel to the street but the right, curved outward in a half circle, almost like a turret.

Climbing the steps to the front doors, he looked for a bell to ring. Off to the right was an ornate brass bell with the name _BASIL_ inscribed above it. At least he was in the right place. Goren rang the doorbell before he could lose his nerve. He waited. No answer. He rang again.

“ _She’s not home_.”

“ _Well, that’s obvious,”_ Goren relented, as he knocked a few times and tried the doorknob to see if it would turn.

“ _Can we go back now?_ ” Bobby pleaded.

“ _No,_ ” said Goren dejectedly as he sunk down to a sitting position, burying his head in his hands.

“ _We are not going to avoid being found. This is all for nothing. The cops will be here any minute. And you are going to have to face them_.”

 _“No_.”

“ _What do you mean ‘no’_?”

Pulling himself back up, Goren walked over to the fenced area to the right of the house, opening the short gate, he stepped inside. He could hide here and not be found… or he could jump the fence at the end of the lot and access Miss Basil’s backyard.

“ _Don’t even think about it,_ ” warned Bobby. “ _There is no way we have the ability to climb that fence._ ”

“ _Oh yea, of little faith,_ ” Goren replied.

“ _Can you not quote the_ Bible _to me right now? What are you going to do once we get over there?_ ”

Picking up a few paver-stones that were lying around in the overgrown lot, he placed them strategically. Goren stepped up, grabbed the top of the fence, placed the tip of his shoe in a convenient hole, and in one swift move, hoisted himself up and swung one leg over. Then, ever so careful not to catch himself on the ragged wood and ignoring the pain in his hands as he supported his weight on the narrow wooden edges, he swung his other leg over before jumping down to the ground.

His legs couldn’t stand the impact and he crumpled the ground.

Pain seared through his bones, as Goren held back a scream behind tightened limps. Breathing raggedly, he waited for the worst of it to subside.

“ _Well, we made it over the fence_ ,” Bobby mocked him.

The detective lay on the ground for a good twenty minutes before he pushed himself to a sitting position, hissing as his palms touched the loose rocks beneath him. He had torn the skin on both hands accompanied by various splinters. Then, adjusting the position of his legs, he hoped he hadn’t managed to re-break anything.

Bobby said carefully, “ _I would really just like to go home now_.”

“ _Too late for that_.”

Crawling over to the porch, Goren made his way up the steps and over to the back doors. He wiggled a handle but was not surprised when he found it to be locked as well. Pulling out the keys from his pocket, he took one end of the keyring and bent it until it was somewhat straight.

“ _Goren, stop. Listen to me. This is breaking and entering. You KNOW that. The police will come and they will arrest you_.”

But he had already come so far, why should he stop now? Taking the thin piece of metal, he inserted it into the keyhole. Then, carefully pushing down each tumbler until it clicked, he once again turned the knob.

*BEEP BEEP*

The alarm indication noise sounded in his ears as the door swung open. But it wasn’t a wail, simply the signal that he had 30 seconds to disarm the alarm.

“ _Fuck_.”

Bracing himself for the impending sirens, he made his way across the dining area, past the kitchen, down the hallway, and across the length of the house to the front entryway. Attached to the wall was the security keypad, the numbers glowing brightly.

“ _What’s the code? Bobby?”_

_“How am I suppose to know?”_

_“Her birthday?”_

_“No idea.”_

_“Roger’s birthday?”_

_“You’re wasting time.”_

_“Wait. What was the code she punched into her phone?”_

_“That could work. It made a triangle on the number screen. Try that.”_

Ever so carefully, Goren hit the buttons 2-7-8-9.

The indicator light went from red to green. Goren breathed a sigh of relief.

“ _Talk about dumb luck,_ ” Bobby mumbled.

The full reality of his situation became suddenly clear to him as the adrenaline left his system. He had left the safe confines of the Institute. If they called a K-9 unit, a dog would find him quickly. And now he had illegally entered the proprietor’s residence. To do what? Look for evidence? As if she would just leave pictures of Lewis and Clark lying around, maybe in a scrapbook with the Latin words “Atta” and “Tata” scrawled across the page.

Glancing around the entry room, Goren noticed clothing and miscellaneous items strewn about. It was apparent that Katherine Elizabeth wasn’t a person one would consider tidy.

“ _Do you think she would be mad if we picked up a little_?” the boy asked. The disorganization made him anxious. Father had no tolerance for it and if things didn’t get set straight, there would be hell to pay.

“ _Lewis is nowhere near here_ ,” Goren reminded himself. “ _Besides, if she gets mad about anything, it will be that we broke into her house_.”

“ _Then maybe just get the blood off the walls…”_

 _“What blood_?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “ _Oh._ ”

Drawing his attention to the path he had taken, there were bright red streaks along the painted walls where he placed his hands to steady himself. The blood on his hands had still been wet when he had made his way into the house. In his haste to the front door, he had neglected to notice.

 _“You’ll have a harder time getting it off if it dries,_ ” Bobby chided.

Off to the right of the hallway, across from the stairs, there was a doorway. Goren was more careful this time as he gingerly made his way over. The door was ajar and he pushed it open and turned on the light. Unfortunately, he wasn’t surprised to see the half bathroom he had entered was as messy as the room outside, he quickly crossed to the sink and started washing the blood and dirt from his hands.

The Daddies will not be pleased to see he had injured his hands once again, he thought as he remembered the last time. The incident with the knife still sent shivers up and down his spine. Shuddering he said, “ _Seriously Bobby, stop it. I don’t want to think of them right now_.”

“ _Don’t blame me,_ ” replied the boy. “ _That was all you.”_

Shaking his head, Goren wondered if he would ever be able to shake the ghosts that haunted him?

Holding on to the top of that fence so firmly hadn’t been his greatest idea. The outer layer of skin on his palms had been significantly torn up but, fortunately, there were only a few splinters embedded in his flesh. Sorting through the clutter on the counter, he found a pair of tweezers and removed the offending bits of wood. Grabbing a towel off the towel rack, he wetted it and soaped it up before exiting the room to clean up the mess he’d made. The mess left by Katherine Elizabeth was another thing.

Most of the various items scattered around were shoes and articles of clothing such as jackets, socks, and dresses carelessly dropped here and there. It took all his might not to pick them up and set things straight. The kitchen was worst than the living room. Empty food packages, mail, dishes, and a half-eaten pizza was scattered around on the table and counters.

Despite the chaos, at least there was nothing moldy or soggy laying around. Hopefully, this meant she’d at least paid someone to come and clean every once in a while.

Sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs, he sighed. He was so exhausted from getting here, that he barely any strength left to move.

 _“So what’s the plan?”_ Bobby asked.

_“We do a quick once over and see if we can find some definitive proof._

_“The whole house?”_

_“The whole house.”_

_“This house is at least 3 stories tall and that doesn’t include the basement. That’s a lot of stairs.”_

_“I know, Bobby. I know_ ,” Goren replied a little disheartened.

_“She’s not going to be happy. You should’ve just waited until she was home.”_

_“And risk being found before we got a chance to talk to her? I don’t think so. Furthermore, we’re here now and it doesn’t make sense not to take advantage of the situation while we can.”_

_“Fine. Then get up and start looking Mr. Detective.”_

Pushing himself off of the table, Goren made his way over to the front of the house again before rearming the alarm. If Miss Basil came home or they managed to track him down, he’d at least wanted to have a heads up.

Everything about this place practically screamed old money. The house seemed to be in relatively good condition with original herringbone flooring and high ceilings with crown molding. Spacious and ostentatiously decorated, the house was clearly from a different era. Many of the pieces were antique and did not quite suit the modern and chic young woman he had come to know. Must be vestiges of Roger’s reign then.

Taking off the coat he had been wearing, he hung it on the banister before mounting the stairs.He climbed clumsily as his legs were sore from his travels and subsequent journey over the fence. The once ornate carpet that covered the steps, now worn down the center, did little to muffle his steps.

Upon reaching the top he entered the hallway, to his left was one door, and to his right two more.

“ _The whole house, huh_?” the boy questioned him once again.

“ _Well,_ ” Goren wavered, “ _maybe just the rooms that look promising_.”

_“What exactly are we even looking for?”_

_“I don’t know. Something. Anything. I’ll know when I see it.”_

Opening the door to the left, Goren quickly looked around whatwas clearly a guest room, judging by the amount of dust he had stirred up when he entered. It seemed unlikely that he would find anything there and so he moved along.

The next door led to a bathroom. This one was larger than the one downstairs, and cleaner too. An indication that she didn’t use it very often.

_“Such a big house for one person,”_ Bobby wondered.

 _“I’ve had apartments smaller than that guest bedroom,”_ Goren added. _“Do you remember?”_

_“The one we had right when we came back from being stationed in Germany? How could I forget?”_

_“You forgot a lot of things…”_

_“I didn’t forget. I just chose not to remember.”_

_“Like you chose not to remember me?”_

_“It was easier that way.”_

Feeling somewhat forlorn, Goren moved on to the next room. By the piles of clothing scattered on the floor, it was clearly Katherine Elizabeth’s room. There was an unmade-bed directly across from the door and then on the other end of the room was a small sitting area in the circular bay. There was a comfy looking couch surrounded by papers, books, a laptop, and bits of material and skeins of threads. To the left of the couch was a dresser and vanity and a walk-through-closet the led to another bathroom.

He entered the bathroom only to find a counter covered in make-up products, hair accessories, and strands of long brown hair. Damn it, all this mess was making his fingers twitch. Maybe after he was done searching, he’d just start cleaning.

Going back, and thumbing through the contents of her closet, he found nothing that was worth noting. The only thing that crossed his mind was that this felt odd to be doing this without gloves. As a detective, he seldom broke the protocol of not wearing gloves at a crime scene.

“ _But this isn’t a crime scene,_ ” he thought to himself.

“ _It kind of is,_ ” remarked Bobby, “t _he only difference is that you’re the one committing the crime_.”

The dresser housed the usual clothing and a few odds and ends like extra straps for clothing and shoelaces. Well, it was usual until he got to the bottom drawer. Upon seeing the contents, he shut it without a second’s hesitation.

 _“On the top… was that a—“_ the boy asked.

Cutting himself off before he could finish the thought, “ _Yep.”_

_“Funny, I didn’t peg her as a lesbian.”_

Rolling his eyes, Goren did not appreciate his lesser self’s attempt at humor. Just because Basil possessed such an item did not make her a lesbian. In fact, he knew that sexual relations between women did not necessitate the need for for an artificial phallus. Katherine Elizabeth could just as very well use the item on a —.

” _Nope. Don’t want to go there.”_

Instead of ruminating on the matter, he continued his sweep of the room. He shouldn't have been surprised to have found “adult” themed items. She was a young New York woman, after all.It it just made him uncomfortable to even think of Miss Basil in that sort of capacity.

His last stop in the room was the nightstand next to the bed. The top drawer was filled with books and odds and ends, like a strange wire comb used to massage one’s scalp. The second drawer was similar in contents as the bottom drawer of the dresser. This too he shut as quickly as he had opened it.

Groaning in exhaustion and disappointed he hadn’t found anything, Goren flopped down on the unmade bed.

“ _Seriously, she doesn’t even make the bed? It takes like two seconds just to pull the covers up_ ,” the boy grumbled.

Impulsively, Goren reached over and twitched the duvet back into place.

The boy audibly gasped as he reached out and snatched the item that had been covered by the blankets, hugging the plush object to his chest.

“ _Bobby_ ,” Goren said, struggling to regain control. “ _Stop holding it so tightly, I need to see what it is_.”

Slowly pulling the object away from himself, the detective inspected the rather shabby looking brown teddy bear with a red bow tie.

Bending his head down, Bobby sniffed the fur. It was a musky scent that smelled more like Basil’s shampoo than anything else. The fuzz of the bear’s nose was worn away, leaving the black plastic underneath bare except at the edges. The plastic hazel colored eyes had a few chips missing. The fur covering the stuffed creature had started pulling away at the seams and in a few spots had come out completely. The red tie no longer robust in its shape, but hung rather limply. Overall, the toy was not in bad shape but it was clearly treasured.

_“It’s exactly like the one in the picture. Here it is, the proof you wanted!”_

_“Could be just a coincidence.”_

_“Why do I get the sense you’ll never be satisfied?”_

_“Come on, Bobby, let’s at least finish looking over the rest of the house.”_

Gripping the toy tightly, he stood up from the bed. His legs wobbled a bit but he was able to make his way over to the door.

“ _Bobby_ ,” Goren directed lightly, “ _put the bear back on the bed._ ”

“ _No_ ,” the boy responded. “ _You want control, you got it. At least, let me hold on to thi_ s.”

“ _Fine_ ,” the detective muttered as he turned and left the room.

The next set of stairs was harder than the first as, after every few steps, he had to stop and rest. Stopping on last time at the top, he peered around the corner seeing only two doors. The one directly to his left seemed the obvious choice as he gripped the handle and turned it counter-clockwise.

Hinges creaking, the door swung open.

“ _Oh_ ,” he thought, “ _this must have been her grandfather’s room_.”

Unlike the guest room directly below, this room had been aired out frequently, the surfaces clearly dusted often. It was pristine. Not an item out of place or askew. The bedclothes were perfectly made, their lines crisp and straight. It was such a juxtaposition to the rest of the house that for a brief moment it felt like he had stepped into another dimension.

Turning slowly around, it was then the detective’s turn to audibly gasp as he looked across to the far side of the room.

An ornate fireplace had been sunk into the wall, its mantle adorned with an array of photos and keepsakes. However, these items were not what caught the detective’s eye. Hanging above it all was a very detailed oil painting, much like the one the hung on the wall in the lobby at the Institute. Roger looked much the same, the signature goatee and the cheerfully bright gray eyes. A little less gray in his hair but clearly the same man. And nestled on his lap was a small girl in a fluffy white dress trimmed in purple, her long brown hair and wispy bangs framing her face, blue eyes piercing as ever, and a solitary dimple adorning her left cheek.

There was no denying it. It was the same girl from the photo. It was Katherine Elizabeth.

It was then that his sore tired legs finally gave out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to hear my reader's thoughts on this chapter. The big "reveal" has finally happened! But what do you think Miss Basil's reaction is going to be when she gets home?
> 
> And on a side note, thoughts on the visuals?
> 
> Characters in the Chapter:  
> [Robert Goren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509454)  
> Characters Mentioned:  
> [Katherine Elizabeth Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510687)  
> [Alexandra  Eames](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510174)  
> [Everett Fray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510513)  
> [Roger Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33513030)  
> [Lee Barrett](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509922)  
> [Dean Kipling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510054)


	11. Halloween Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine Elizabeth comes home.

Headed home, Katherine Elizabeth was having a hard time keeping her anger in check. Usually, Halloween was one of her favorite holidays. It was a chance to shake off the reality of the world and enjoy a bit of fantastical make-believe. Like stripping off your favorite character’s skin and getting to wear it around for the night, it was a pure delight. Plus, all the boys got completely wasted and were easy to talk into doing things they might not otherwise agree to do.

However, she wouldn’t be having any sort of mischievous misadventures this night. No, instead she would be waiting at home by the phone to hear about her pet detective that had gone missing. Had she not hurled her iPhone across the room when the director had told her, she would already be out there looking for him herself. As it was,the screen on the phone had cracked, rendering the touch display unresponsive. Unable to send or receive calls, she’d just have to rely on her landline.

“Like living in the frickin’ dark ages,” she mused.

“What was that?” the cab driver asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she replied as she pulled out a fifty and handed it to the driver before getting out of the cab, careful not to get the long skirt of her black dress caught in the door. “Keep the change.”

“Happy Halloween,” the driver called as he pulled away.

“Happy Halloween…,” she said distractedly. A mere automated response since the driver couldn’t possibly hear her.

Dodging a couple trick-or-treaters, Katherine Elizabeth made the way up the steps to the home she had shared with her grandfather. The keys in her hand jangled pleasantly as she unlocked the door and entered the building. Turning on the lights, she kicked off her shoes and disabled the alarm. An odd feeling came over her, like a soft hum that she felt rather than heard. Dismissing it as nerves, she shed her jacket, threw it over the nearest chair, and made her way over to the kitchen.

Picking up the old rotary phone, spinning and then listening to the ticking sound the dial made as it spun backward, she slowly put in each digit of Fray’s number.

Their conversation was terse but short. No one had seen Goren since early that afternoon and they still were not sure how he got out. But he had managed to get the service door open and had left through one of the maintenance exits. Leaving his wheelchair behind, they were sure he hadn’t gotten far.

Unfortunately, because of the holiday, the police had limited resources so they could only send out a couple of beat cops. Not wanting to cause a ruckus, Fray had only given the police a description and a first name. The rest of the staff, at least the ones not already busy with the party, were sent out to assist in the search. Goren’s old partner had been called as well but she hadn’t answered.

Instructing Fray to call her at her home number as soon as he knew of anything. She hung up the phone.

Wading through some of the rubbish on the counter, Katherine Elizabeth found a box of cold pizza before pulling out a slice. Then thinking better of it, she decided to just to throw it and the whole box away. It was quickly followed by the other empty packages and loose papers laying on the counter.

“ _Won’t my housekeeper be pleased_ ,” she thought to herself.

She hated cleaning with a passion but at least it kept her hands and mind busy while she waited for Fray’s call. Finally, when the kitchen was cleared, she moved onto the living room. Scooping up dirty clothes, she tossed them onto the landing of the descending stairs, before moving onto the jackets and shoes which she tidied away in the closet next to the front door.

Her task mostly complete, she pushed her hair out of her face and spied a tan jacket on the banister. Reaching out to pull it down, she quickly noticed it did not belong to her.

“ _Did Colin leave a jacket behind last time he was here_?” she questioned silently.

It was more functional than the style he normally wore and turning it over, she noticed the logo on the breast, _The Basil Institute_. This jacket is from the Institute, what’s it doing here? It took just a second for her mind to make the connection.

“Bobby,” she whispered. Then louder, “Bobby! BOBBY!”

Running up the stairs, she turned on the lights as she went, calling the detective’s name.

Questions ran through her brain at a thousand miles a minute, “ _The alarm was on, how did he even get in? Is he really here or am I being paranoid? How did he even know where I live? Why would he come here of all places_?”

There was no trace of him on the second floor and she quickly ascended to the third floor, stopping suddenly on the landing. Grandfather’s door was ajar.

Turning on the hallway light, Katherine Elizabeth braced herself as she slowly pushed open the door to the bedroom.

“Bobby?” she breathed.

Her heart practically stopped. He was there, sitting on the end of Grandfather’s bed, clutching something in his hands. The tracks down his cheeks evidence of recent tears and yet he remained unmoved.

“Bobby,” she asked softly, “what are you doing here?”

“Diligite mihi vestra ursus,” he replied quietly, his voice crackled from disuse.

“How did you get inside my house?” Katherine Elizabeth asked, her temper rising as she stepped into the room.

“Ego probationem necessariam… ego opus ad esse confirmatus,” came the man’s reply.

“ _Holy hell_ ,” she thought, “ _he’s speaking in Latin. Of course, I should’ve known_.”

The first thing he had said was that he liked her bear and the second was that he needed proof, that he needed to be certain. _Damn it, he knew!_

Finally, answering in kind and switching to her native tongue, she responded, “You could’ve just asked.”

“And gotten a straight answer? I doubt it,” he said quietly, staring down at the teddy bear in his hands. “Besides, there was a part of me that was afraid, as counterintuitive as that might sound.”

“But you…,” Goren continued, finally bringing his big brown eyes up to meet her own, spilling forth a slew of words like the flood gates opening and water was crashing through. “You’re not afraid, are you? A strange man with a history of mental instability breaks into your home and you don’t even bat an eye. Most women in your position would be shaking, completely terrified…. but not you. You’re as solid as a rock. Why would that be? Why would a debutant socialite like yourself have nerves of steel?”

The detective’s questions were getting more aggressive and Katherine Elizabeth felt as though she was being hostilely interrogated as he directed his anger at her.

“What could’ve possibly happened to a spoiled trust fund kid from Brooklyn that would enable you to act without emotion? You probably don’t feel much, do you? Putting on a mask and walking around like you own the world.

“But it’s just an act, isn’t it? Because deep down you know, you don’t have the capacity to feel real emotion. What does it actually take to get your heart pumping? What sort of mischief do you get into to get that thrill you crave?”

“ _The man hasn’t been able to communicate in four months. It’s only natural that the first thing he’s going to do is lash out. Don’t take it personally_ ,” she told herself. But it was a hard pill to swallow. Some of what he had said had hit a little too close to home.

“I am not incapable of feeling,” she said resolutely, doing her best to keep her voice calm. Instead, it came out overly sweet.

“No,” came his reply, “you’re right. You have feeling but it’s just the one, anger. I can practically feel the waves of it rolling off of you.”

Pivoting slightly, as if to turn and leave, she said, “I’m calling Fray.”

“Does he know?” the question must’ve lept from his mouth.

“No,” she said slowly, “Are you going to tell him? Bet he’d love that.”

The affectation in her voice began to rise as she continued.

“If Fray found out I wasn’t Roger’s legitimate granddaughter, he could have me removed from my position at the Institute. He could have me stripped of my inheritance… my name… my identity. Is that what you want, Bobby?”

“No,” he replied, “but—“

“But what?!” Katherine Elizabeth practically shouted as she interrupted him, “You accuse me of being without emotion, without compassion. As if the first thing I did when I saw their stupid faces on the news wasn’t to call Fray to see to it that you were taken care of, like my grandfather did for me!”

Goren, seeing her distress, attempted to backpedal, “Kath—“

Not giving him a chance to even speak, she was persistent in her defense, “I am not like them! I am not a monster! I have emotion! I _am_ capable of love and compassion and decency!!”

The words came tumbling out of her mouth and she could not control them as she lay her deepest fears bare, that what she was saying was very possibly untrue. But she couldn’t take it back. It was there, out in the open.

Needing to reign in the sensitivities that threatened to overwhelm her, Basil darted forward before snatching her teddy bear out of the detective’s hands. Her sudden movement had taken him by surprise and he pulled back instinctively. But he didn’t need to be concerned, she was not interested in hurting him.

Turning her back on him, she left the room and slammed the door behind her before slumping and sliding down against it. Burying her face in Teddy’s fur, she attempted to slow down her breathing which had increased of its own accord.

Feeling the pain of old wounds resurfacing, the girl’s face scrunched up. He was right. It was a mask, an elaborate charade. Deep down she knew that she was different from everyone else around her. That she didn’t feel and act the way a normal person should. Without her grandfather to guide her, the task of knowing when to do the right thing and how to do it had always been daunting. Wishing fervently that he was with her now, a small sob of grief and despair made its way past her lips. She had let her emotions get out of control. Bad things happened when she lost control.

“ _Don’t cry_ ,” she said to herself. “ _It’s not worth shedding tears over things you can do nothing about. The past cannot be changed. That bell cannot be un-rung. There’s no need to be so distraught._ ”

Trying to think of what her grandfather would say to her if he was there in that moment with her, Katherine Elizabeth pictured him crouching down next to her.

Roger’s phantom brushed her hair back and said, “ _Hey now little miss, chin up. What did I tell you about emotions? They are your strength, not your weakness_.”

“ _It’s too painful. I can’t_.”

“ _I know it’s difficult, sweetheart_ ,” the imagined man replied, “ _but those emotions will give you the strength you need so that the past doesn’t overpower your present_.”

“ _I just don’t want to care anymore, not about what happened or about them_.”

 _“And what about the man in the other room,”_ Grandfather asked, _“do you not care about him?”_

 _Oh_. It suddenly dawned on her that the visceral reaction she was having might due to the person behind the words, more so than the words themselves. Bobby was just doing his best to cope with the terrible experiences he’d been forced to endure. It had left him confused and depressed and angry… prone to self-harm.

Self-harm, he had proved multiple times that he was more than capable of hurting himself. And she had just left him by himself in a room, with the door closed. The thought alone was enough to sober her up as she quickly stood back up and opened the door.

“Come on,” she said, quietly, “this is Grandfather’s room and you’re not allowed in here without permission.”

“I can’t,” he responded, his voice calm.

“Look, I promise not to tell Fray you broke in if you promise not to tell him or anyone about …,” she trailed off.

Picking up her sentence where she had left off, Goren said, “…about Father and Daddy.”

“Please tell me they didn’t make you call them that too.”

Nodding solemnly, he said, “They did. But I promise I won’t tell Fray. I’m not exactly comfortable talking to people.”

“Okay, it’s a deal then,” Katherine Elizabeth replied as she motioned for him to exit the room.

“I can’t,” he told her once more. “My legs, I think I might’ve overexerted myself.”

“Oh, in that case…” she said as she stepped over warily to assist him.

Reaching out to take his hand, she felt the warmth of his skin brush against her cool fingers. It was the first time they had ever genuinely come in physical contact with one another. Suddenly, she felt this almost indescribable feeling, practically kismet in nature, so deep it went down to her very bones. It was if she had been lost her entire life without knowing it and then had inexplicably found her true North. And it had taken her home. Taken her to him.

Her eyes must’ve gone wide because he reached up, as if to steady her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “You?”

“Still can barely move my legs but that’s not what you’re referring to, is it?”

“What was that?”

“No idea.”

“At least we’re on the same page,” she remarked practically. She didn’t currently have the time, patience, or emotional strength to deal with anything as inexplicable as what had just occurred. “Now, let’s get you up and down stairs. I need to call Fray.”

Looping his arm around her shoulders, she wrapped her arm around his waist and got him to a standing position. The two of them gradually made their way out of the room, down both flights of stairs, and over to the kitchen.

Setting him down on a chair with a huff, Katherine Elizabeth pulled up another chair as she rested for a moment.

“You cleaned,” Bobby said making an observation. “I wondered what you were doing before you came upstairs.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” she replied with a grin.

“I am, it was a disaster.”

“Hey now,” she replied sheepishly, “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Like an episode of _Hoarders_ ,” he teasingly replied.

Taking a stand, she stuck her tongue out at the detective as she walked over to the phone and called Fray.

———

“Everett, you’ll never guess who just showed up on my doorstep.”  
———

“Well, he was as pale as a ghost, so I nearly mistook him for a treat-or-treater. But no, he’s fine. Just sitting here in my kitchen.”

———

“No, he didn’t say a word. Just showed up.”

———

“Okay. We’ll see you then.”

Placing the phone back in its cradle, Miss Basil turned towards Goren and asked, “I make a mean cup of hot cocoa, would you like one?”

“Will my body be able to handle it?” he asked with just a hint of trepidation.

“Yes,” she replied. “Is that why you haven’t been eating? You’re worried about negative reactions to food?”

The man nodded ‘yes’ but didn’t actually say anything.

“There’s not much that causes it,” she stated, implicitly knowing he was referring to the drug intolerance syndrome. “Drugs, alcohol… you know, anything fun. Luckily, most food is pretty safe. But if you want I can double check the menu items at the Institute. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” he replied, as if he was still getting accustomed to hearing his own voice.

“You start eating again and Fray will be so pleased, he might forget you ever ran away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure Bobby & Katherine Elizabeth have a lot of questions for one another. So many in fact that I want to be sure not to miss any. So I would love to hear from everyone to know what questions they would like to have answered!
> 
> BONUS: If you really want to get inside Katherine Elizabeth’s head, then may I suggest listening to [Gasoline](https://youtu.be/zRHNi3QfFlE) by Halsey. Miss Basil took shape in my mind long before this song came out but I was shocked when I heard this song because it fits her so perfectly. Seriously, give this song a listen... maybe reread the third floor scene.
> 
> Characters in the Chapter:  
> [Katherine Elizabeth Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510687)  
> [Robert Goren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509454)
> 
> Characters Mentioned:  
> [Everett Fray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510513)  
> [Colin Jones](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33514572)  
> [Roger Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33513030)  
> [Lee Barrett](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509922)  
> [Dean Kipling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510054)


	12. Halloween Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames comes along...

When she had realized she had missed a call from the Institute, Eames could’ve kicked herself. She had been out at her sister’s house with family and had left her phone inside while she hung out on the porch passing out candy.

Fray would’ve only called if he had important news, most likely bad news given the day and time. Listening to the voicemail, she was so shocked by the message that someone could've knocked her over with a feather. After taking a moment to collect her wits, Eames tried to return Fray's call but he did not pick up as he was most likely busy searching for her missing detective. Not wanting to stand around waiting for the whatever dire news she'd receive next, Eames kissed her nieces and nephews goodbye, jumped into her car, and speedily made her way back to the city.

It was dark before she hit the Brooklyn bridge and received another call from Fray, this time she answered. It was a relief to hear that Bobby was okay. Fray wasn’t liberal with the details, he only said that Goren had managed to find his way over to the proprietor’s house and that he was there now with him.

“ _867 Carroll Street,”_ Eames told herself repeatedly as she pulled onto the street.

“ _The proprietor’s house, why would he go there_?”

Eames didn’t know much about the proprietor other than she was a young woman in her twenties that had inherited the Institute from her grandfather. According to Fray, she had no real function at the facility but she would occasionally show up and check in with the staff and residents.

Pulling up outside of the brownstone, Eames double parked and hurried up to the steps before ringing the doorbell. As she waited for an answer, she could hear angry voices inside. One was certainly Fray’s, the other, presumably, was the proprietor’s. They were loud enough that she could make out what they were saying.

“You simply can’t be trusted.”

“I had nothing to do with this and you know it.”

“How could I possibly believe that when Goren chose here, of all places, to run away to?”

“I don’t know.”

“How else would he have known where you lived unless you told him?”

“I didn’t tell him. And I certainly didn’t tell him to run away.”

“You must’ve said something. Convinced him that he was better off listening to you than to his doctors and therapists.”

“I never said anything of the sort. I barely spoke to him. It’s not like he’s a great conversationalist.”

They must’ve not heard the bell the first time and she rung it again. The yelling ended abruptly as the door was yanked open.

Before her stood a slender and tall young woman clad in a long black dress, most likely the remains of a Halloween costume.

“Ah,” Miss Basil said mildly, “you must be Lieutenant Eames. Do come in. Sorry to leave you waiting, I was just having a discussion with a member of my staff.”

“Where is he?” Eames asked, too worried about her partner to be concerned about whatever workplace politics where at play between the director and proprietor.

“Just in the dining room, down the hall,” Basil replied.

Brushing past the woman, Eames made her way into the house and to the kitchen. There was Bobby, sitting at the table, with another member of the staff keeping watch. In his hands was a white ceramic mug but he set it down when he saw her.

Almost imperceptibly, he extended his arms to her. She noticed that both of his hands had been loosely bandaged in gauze before rushing into his embrace. She held him tightly to her for a few moments. Then, taking a step back, she rubbed her thumbs across his cheeks.

“Bobby,” she chided him even though she was relieved to see him, “you can’t keep doing this to me. I’m not as young as I used to be. I practically had a heart attack. Why would you go and do a thing like run away?”

As usual, he was silent but at least he answered, with a shrug.

“And where’s your feeding tube? Bobby, you need that.”

Shaking his head, Goren picked up the cup he had set down and had a sip before offering it to Eames. Not wanting to refuse him, she took it from him and she too sipped at the frothy mixture. It was warm and sweet and tasted of cream and mint.

Fray and Miss Basil had joined them in the kitchen, neither of them looked any better for it. The older man looked harried and the young woman annoyed.

“What happened to his hands?” Eames inquired, giving the cup back to Bobby and turning to Fray.

“He must’ve fallen a few times,” replied Fray cooly. “They were pretty banged up, knees too, but nothing that won’t heal in a few days time.”

“Well, that’s a relief. But how did this happened?” she asked her voice turning cold. “What type of shit show are you running?”

“If I may,” interjected Basil, her verbiage overly polite as if to compensate for the underlying malice in her voice, “my grandfather would not appreciate you using vulgarity or disrespecting his establishment within his home. So if you please, reserve your criticism for another time. Whatever faults Dr. Fray may have, he’ll certainly make sure nothing of this nature happens again.”

“That’s what he said the last time when Bobby locked himself in a bathroom and tried to give himself hypothermia,” Eames replied haughtily.

“This isn’t like last time. Last time he suffered a mental breakdown,” Fray remarked. His statement directed at Eames as though he had forgotten Bobby’s presence entirely. “This time he was fully aware of what he was doing. He got up and left entirely of his own accord. We do our best, Lieutenant, but the truth of the matter is I’m running a health care facility, not a prison. Traumatized or not, the man is still a cop. He’s proficient enough to know how to pick a lock or swipe a pair or keys.”

“You can’t be serious. He’s not capable of making those type of decisions.”

Beside her, Goren gave a grunt of discontent, clearly opposed to the statement she had just made.

“I’m sorry, Bobby. I didn’t mean it like that,” said Alex as she looked over at her former partner. The look he gave her was one that she had not seen in a long time. Ever since she’d come to him in Chicago, it was if he wasn’t all there, as if part of him was somewhere else. But the man staring back at her was altogether present.

“Robert,” Fray asked, “did you know what you were doing when you decided to come here?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Goren motioned firmly.

“Care to enlighten the rest of us on why you would do a thing like that?” Fray questioned.

Bobby shot the proprietor an almost imperceivable glance before shaking his head ‘no’.

“Very well then,” Basil stated suddenly, “there’s nothing left to talk about. It’s very late, so let’s get Detective Goren here back to the institute and into bed. Any discussions that need to be had or actions that need to be taken can wait until the morning.”

“Of course,” replied Fray, though he looked pained to admit that she was right. “I think it’s been a long day for everyone. It’s probably best that we pick this back up tomorrow, after we’ve all gotten a chance to rest.”

This announcement prompted action on the part of the orderly who had been sitting off to the side. The young man stood up and exited, only to come back in less than a minute with a wheelchair. Moments later, Goren was trundled up and out into a waiting vehicle.

The lieutenant was the last one to leave the house. And with not a word of farewell, Miss Basil shoved the door shut behind them, apparently all too eager to be rid of her house guests.

“ _One thing is for certain_ ,” Eames thought to herself, thinking about the young woman’s overall demeanor and the look Bobby had given her, “ _I don’t trust that Katherine Elizabeth. Not one bit_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes the BIG chapter I promised... I hope it lives up to the scenario that's been playing in my head over and over again for months on end. Please tell me your thoughts, I would really love to know!
> 
> Characters in this Chapter:  
> [Alexandra  Eames](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510174)  
> [Katherine Elizabeth Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510687)  
> [Everett Fray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510513)  
> [Robert Goren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509454)


	13. A Former Colleague

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames seeks the aid of a former colleague.

After leaving his position with the District Attorney’s Office, Ron Carver had assumed that his days of being woken up in the middle of the night by anxious detectives had come to an end. Apparently, he had been mistaken. Wrapping his woolen robe around his silk pajamas, the attorney made his way to his front door. Upon opening it, he found an apprehensive Alexandra Eames on his stoop.

“Ron,” she greeted him. “I’m sorry about the late hour. I just really needed to speak with you.”

“Detective,” he said cautiously, “why don’t you step in?”

“Thank you,” Eames replied, as she followed Carver into his home, “and it’s lieutenant now. Not that you’d know that. I haven’t seen you since…”

“Since my wife’s funeral,” Ron supplied, looking over at the framed wedding photo of him and his wife on the mantle, his dark skin was just a few shades darker than hers.“Yes. I haven’t seen much of the old crowd since I left rather abruptly to take care of my wife when she got the diagnosis. But let’s dispense with the small talk, shall we? You said on the phone that you needed my help and that it was rather urgent. What exactly is the matter?”

“I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“Alex,” he responded, tone now cautious, “if you’ve gotten yourself into some sort of trouble —“

“No,” Eames interrupted, cutting him short, “I’m not the one in trouble.”

“So it’s Goren then.”

“What … how did you…?“

“Please,” he remarked knowingly, “the two of you are as thick as thieves. I knew the moment I saw your name on the caller ID that Goren must’ve done something so drastic that you couldn’t dig him out by yourself. That you needed help from someone already well acquainted with your partner's eccentricities.”

Eames huffed, perhaps she didn’t appreciate him implying that her main function was to act as Goren’s keeper. Attempting to placate her, Carver gestured for her to take a seat in the over-stuffed chair.

“We’re not partner’s anymore,” she said, sitting down. “We’re not even in the same division. And Bobby hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Lifting a brow in disbelief, he asked, “Then why are you here?”

“Because, I …,” Eames said hesitantly, “I’ve put him in an unsafe environment and I need your help in getting him out.”

“And this environment you’ve put him in,” Carver questioned, now confused, “do I really want to know what kind of a place it is? Or do I need to pour myself a drink first?”

“It’s almost four o’clock in the morning,” Eames responded irritably.

“So just a small one then,” he concluded, as he walked over to the liquor cabinet. “Can I get you something?”

“No, Ron, this is serious.”

“Then tell me, where have you _put_ Goren?” Carver asked analytically, really diving into the issue. “It seems odd to me that you’d be able to do something like that when you two are not even in the same division anymore. Or do you mean that you’ve been working together outside of the scope of the law?”

“The Basil Institute, I had him placed at the Basil Institute. ”

Astonished, he asked, “You mean the mental health hospital out in Brooklyn?”

“Yes.”

Absentmindedly, he set the tumbler of spirits down without taking a sip, leaving it forgotten on the end table. His suspicions raised, he pushed for her to elaborate, “Is this some sort of undercover operation or are you telling me you’ve actually had Goren committed?”

“No,” the lieutenant responded indignantly. “The reason I came to you is because I trust you. You know Goren. And despite the two of you not always getting along, I feel like you respected him on a professional level.”

“Are you going to tell me why you are here or not?” Carver prodded.

“I just need to know that you’ll keep this confidential,” Eames said with a sigh, rubbing her forehead as though the mere thought of telling him was causing her pain.

“I’m a lawyer,” he reassured her, his voice calm and gentle, “confidentiality is my bread and butter. Now tell me what has happened.”

“Do you… oh gosh, this is harder than I thought…” Eames said, scrabbling for words. “Do you remember the headlines this past summer of a New York police officer being found in Chicago?”

“Vaguely…,” Carver nodded, anxious to for the lieutenant to finally get to the point.

“Well, Goren was undercover for the Organized Crime division,” she beganguardedly, “when … when he went missing.”

Ron could feel the blood draining from his face. “Missing? Alex, please tell me that the man they found up in Chicago wasn’t Bobby.”

The look on her face was enough to confirm his worst suspicions. She didn’t say a word but did push a stray tear from her cheek.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, Alex. I had no idea.”

“That’s the point though, isn’t it? This whole ordeal he’s been through only gets worse if too many people know and eventually, someone will leak his identity to the media.”

Feeling weak at the knees, Carver finally took a seat as well and steadied himself. His mind now supplying the bits of information it had retained from the news coverage.

“Goren’s been raped?” he asked tonelessly, not knowing whether or not he really wanted to hear the answer.

“Yes,” Eames replied quietly. “Raped, beaten, broken … for two long years.”

 _Two years_ , the words resounded in his head. The wheels in his brain stalled at the idea. A tall man, Goren had been known to dominate the room with his physicality. What had it taken to break that? Carver shuddered at the thought.

“So how is he now?” Ron finally asked after a few moments of silence.

“I doubt he’ll ever be the same,” she sullenly remarked. “He hasn’t said a word since they found him. Refuses to eat. And what progress he’s made has been nominal.”

“But you said he’s at the Basil Institute,” he stated, skeptically. “That’s a pretty high-end place. Who’s paying for that?”

“No one. The Institute’s charitable foundation is covering the cost but that’s neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is Bobby isn’t safe there anymore.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because,” she explained quickly, “tonight he got out and it took them hours to find him. And given his diminished capacity, I can’t bring myself to imagine what could’ve happened to him, alone on the streets.”

“Is he’s safe now?”

“Yes.”

Nodding thoughtfully, the former district attorney entreated, “But this has you doubting their abilities in helping your former partner?”

“Exactly.”

“But in order to have him moved,” Carver thought out loud, unconsciously switching into lawyer mode, “you’d have to have custody. Which, of course, you don’t have. Custody of residents resides with the institute itself. So that’s why you’re here. You want me to sue the institute for custody on your behalf.”

“I gave the okay to have him sent there. I should be able to rescind that approval.”

Ron contemplated his next words carefully, “Are you sure I’m the right man for the job? Shouldn’t one of the departmental lawyers be handling this? Or maybe even a union rep?”

“The department,” said Eames bitterly, “only cares about their image. Now that Bobby’s being treated in a fancy facility, it makes them look good as if they were the ones who responsible for him being there. And as for the union, well, Bobby hasn’t exactly been paying his dues lately, now has he?”

The concern she was feeling for Goren was almost palpable. However, at the same time, her concern didn’t alleviate the potential burden of being responsible for mentally traumatized man. Thoughtfully, he asked, “What would happen if you got custody? Where would you have him placed? You’d then be liable for his expenses. Is that really what you want?”

“I just want him to be safe.”

“So maybe what you want is for the Basil Institute to take his care more seriously?” he suggested.

Eames shrugged, “I suppose. There’s a meeting in the morning to review Bobby’s treatment plan.”

“Well then,” Carver said, leaning back in his chair, “why don’t I tag along? Perhaps we can put the fear of God into them.”

“Do you think it will work?”

Smiling kindly at her, he replied, “It’s worth a shot.”

***

Carver wasn’t sure what to expect when he followed Eames through the glass doors of the Basil Institute. He knew it was high-end but he didn’t expect it to feel more like a five-star hotel than a hospital, with its gleaming marble floors, impeccable furnishings, and impossibly high ceiling. And Eames really wanted to take Goren out of this place?

“Hello,” a well dressed black man greeted them. “Good morning Lieutenant. How are you this morning? Well rested I hope?”

“Not really,” Eames muttered solemnly.

“And you are…?” the man asked, turning towards Carver and extending his hand in greeting.

“Ron Carver,” the lawyer responded, taking the man’s hand in his own and shaking it, “attorney at law. Eames and Goren were colleagues of mine back when I worked for the DA’s office.”

“A lawyer?” the man’s eyes flicked over to Eames. “You’ll have to excuse me. I didn’t realize we had reached that point and so I’m rather unprepared. But where are my manners? It’s nice to meet you. My name is Doctor Everett Fray and I am the director here at the Institute.”

“So you’re the man in charge?” Ron replied.

“It would seem so,” Fray quipped, seemingly annoyed. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to follow me, I’ll show you to the conference room.”

The pair of them followed behind the director as he made his way down the hallway and through a set of heavy wooden doors behind which was a medium-sized oblong table. Three chairs along each side and one on each end, the table comfortably sat eight people. Two individuals were already seated. One, a bearded man in his early thirties dressed in slacks and a polo, and two, an older heavy-set woman with curly gray hair, a rumpled sweater, and a tweed skirt.

Taking a seat at one end of the table, Fray directed Carver and Eames to sit across from the members of his staff before saying, “Quick introductions, this is Marjorie Woods and Justin Taylor, Goren’s therapist and counselor. And Lieutenant Eames and her attorney, Ron Carver, both of whom are Goren’s former colleagues. Obviously, we are all here for the same purpose which is to provide our patient with the best care possible and to avoid incidents like the one we had last night.”

“It was more than an incident, if you ask me,” Eames stated sourly.

“Lieutenant,” Fray responded in a calm but brusque fashion, “it’s not like we let him get up and walk out through the front door. Up until that point, we’d been keeping a very close eye on him. It wasn’t until we gave him a bit of latitude that he managed to find a pair of keys and leave through a locked service exit. It was an unprecedented and unpredictable event.”

“Poor dear was probably sitting out in the cold for hours,” Marjorie lamented empathetically. “I felt just awful. We all did. I only wish I could’ve helped look for him but unfortunately, my gout was acting up.”

“He did have a jacket,” Justin interjected. “Besides, I doubt he was sitting still for long, otherwise we would’ve found him sooner. Granted, none of us realized he would be able to walk as far as he did.”

“So it was just the staff looking for him?” Carver questioned.

“No,” remarked Fray. “We called the police as well. They sent a few uniforms to assist but it was Halloween. As you know, that tends to be a busy night for law enforcement.”

“But none of you found him,” said the lawyer, going off of some of the additional information Eames had filled him in on before getting to the institute, “isn’t that correct? He made his way over to a certain young woman’s house?”

“Miss Basil,” remarked Ms. Woods, “is the proprietor. She’s not around much but Goren must’ve taken a shine to her during one of her visits. Lord knows why. She’s a bit misadventurous, that one.”

“You think she’s responsible,” Eames stated, her words now directed at Fray.

Clearing his throat, the director responded, “I wouldn’t go as far as to say that. After discussing it with my staff, it seems the more likely scenario was that he left to go see someone else.”

“And who would that be?” the lieutenant asked.

“You,” Justin answered. “What you have to understand, Lieutenant, is that so far Robert has not been receptive to any sort of therapy or treatment. He flat out refuses to engage. There’s no reasoning with him, he just ignores us. You’re the only one he really responds to, so we think he left the facility in search of you.”

“Then maybe,” Eames replied heatedly, “you should’ve allowed me to come more often.”

Setting a hand lightly on hers, the lawyer redirected the conversation, “What we are here about is not to point fingers and assign blame. We can all agree that there needs to be a change in Goren’s treatment or, perhaps, a change of custody?”

“You mean transferring him to another facility?” Marjorie questioned, clearly astounded that anyone would even make that suggestion.

“Possibly,” Ron stated, imply that there was some leeway.

Fray opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“Sorry, I’m late,” a young woman chimed lackadaisically as she waltzed into the room, “I lost track of time.”

“ _This must be the proprietor Eames told me about_ ,” Carver thought as he studied Miss Basil, who continued around the table, pattering Taylor’s shoulder along the was as a sign for him to keep his seat because he had begun to raise himself out of his chair as a forced sign of deference. Using the moment when he was otherwise occupied to blatantly snag the papers he had in front of him. To Carver, she appeared out of place, a pretty young woman in a tailored knee-length cream colored dress that was suited better for a casual cocktail party than it would a departmental meeting.

Taking the seat at the other end of the table, Katherine Elizabeth’s gaze found Carver. Looking him straight in the eye, Katherine Elizabeth said, “I don’t know you. Do I? But you look like a lawyer. Everett, he’s a lawyer, right?”

“Yes, Miss Basil,” Fray responded tartly.

“Ahh,” she exclaimed, “I do love being right.”

Carver imagined the girl in front of him loved a lot of things, and being right was only one of them. One look at her and he could tell she was the sort of person with whom he did not want to get involved. Smart, pretty, and rich was not a good combination. Girls like her loved nothing better than to stir up drama.

“So, Lieutenant,” Miss Basil asked in a seemingly innocuous fashion as she shuffled through the papers she had stolen, “have you brought a bull to my china shop?”

“Katherine Elizabeth,” the director said, a warning tone to his voice, “both the Lieutenant and Mr. Carver are here on behalf of one of our residents. Play nice.”

“I am playing nice,” she responded. “And Bobby is the recipient of our charitable endowment residency. And as the chairperson of that endowment, I am invested in the care he receives.”

Flicking a challenging look in Eames’s direction Basil asked, with an insincere smile, ”So, why the lawyer?”

“They want to remove Goren from our facility,” Justin supplied, dejectedly.

“Well if you want him,” Katherine Elizabeth said nonchalantly, her attention once again returned to the papers in before her, “you can have him. I’m sure Doctor Fray can get one of the assistants to draw up discharge papers and have his custody transferred by the end of the day.

“But out of curiosity, where will you take him? The Manhattan Psychiatric Center? I hear they’ve got bedbugs, so be sure you don’t touch any of the furniture while you’re there. Or maybe up in Auburn? It’s a bit of a drive but I’m sure you’ll be able to get up there a few times a month. Then there’s always the Samaritan Center. But of course, they’re terribly understaffed, so you’ll need to check for bed sores when you visit. Goodness knows with Bobby being a flight risk, they’ll just tie him down.”

Once she was finished speaking the room went silent and stayed that way as the room collectively contemplated the picture the proprietor had painted.

After a moment or two, Carver spoke, and by his sonorous tone, it became apparent that he had fallen back on his years of working as an assistant district attorney, “Moving Goren to a different facility is just one option. However, I think it’s rather drastic. Instead, maybe we can come to some sort of agreement on what can be done to improve his treatment here, at this facility.”

Snorting in derision, Katherine Elizabeth said, “Honestly, I think his treatment is just fine the way it is. It’s been slow, yes. But he has improved.”

“You call running away an improvement?” Eames asked angrily.

Shifting uncomfortably, Fray finally intervened before Basil could respond, “Not that running away was a smart choice but it was a choice, Alex. One that Goren wasn’t capable of making six months ago.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Carver asked.

“It means,” the doctor said heavily, “that his fingerprints were all over that house in Chicago, not just in the basement.Had he been capable of making choices, while he was being held captive, I’m sure he would’ve tried to run away when Barrett and Kipling brought him upstairs.”

“Don’t,” Eames sputtered furiously, “don’t you dare put any of the blame on him.”

“He’s not,” Katherine Elizabeth remarked calmly, occasionally pausing for dramatic effect. “But this whole thing you’ve got going on, well it’s a bit much, isn’t it? We can all see it. Your fervor to put up a fight on Bobby’s behalf, it’s really just your way of dealing with the guilt you have over the fact that you failed to find your friend. You feel like you did nothing while he endured the worse possible treatment imaginable for two long years.”

“I… I…,” Eames was clearly confounded by the young woman’s astute observations.

The older woman, across the table, reached out and patted Eames’s hand and said kindly, “When something bad happens to someone we love, it’s only natural for us to blame ourselves.”

Turning around in his chair, Carver had Eames lean over to him as they conferred together quietly.

“Alex,” Carver whispered, “we’re up against the ropes here.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Eames replied, her voice hushed.

“What do you want to do? Keep swinging or call it.”

“What do you think?”

“I think Goren is better off here. The staff seems to have his best interest at heart.”

“They lost him.”

“And we’ll make sure they address that. Besides, knowing Goren, he’s not the easiest person to keep track of.”

“Fine. But let me be the one to call it. I’m not going to have some trust fund brat think she’s got the better of me.”

The pair turned back around towards the expectant faces.

“I have known Robert Goren for over a decade,” Eames stated. “And in that time, not once have I betrayed the inherent trust that lies between us. I care about him deeply and I am very much invested in him getting the treatment that he needs. Perhaps this place is better equipped to address those needs than other facilities. But seeing as Bobby was able to waltz out of here with no one the wiser, I would like that addressed, immediately.”

“Well, that’s something we can certainly agree on,” Basil remarked, her posture relaxing slightly. “No one wants Bobby to start running around in the streets of New York unattended. Finding him on my front porch was a bit of a shock, to say the least. Needless to say, that’s something I would like to avoid in the future.”

“Well, if Goren isn’t responding well to being watched constantly and being kept under lock and key, then maybe it’s time you tried another approach,” the lawyer suggested.

“Like what?” Taylor asked.

“Maybe a tracker of some sort,” Fray replied.

“An ankle monitor would do the trick,” Miss Basil added. “Those things are practically indestructible.”

“Tie it to the GPS location of the hospital and it would alert us if he goes off campus or tries to remove it,” Marjorie said knowingly.

“He’s not going to like that,” Eames speculated.

“Where is Goren now?” Carver asked.

“He’s up in his room, hopefully getting ready to go eat breakfast,” Taylor answered. “Since he removed his NG-tube, we’d thought we’d attempt to get him to eat before trying to insert another one.”

“Depending on how he feels about returning to the institute,” Woods added, “he might be more inclined to starting eating again.”

“How do you mean?” the lieutenant questioned.

“Well, if he is not upset about being back, he might start eating again so as to mitigate the consequences of his field-trip yesterday,” the older woman explained.

“He did seem to be in a better mood when you showed up last night,” Miss Basil mentioned arbitrarily.“Perhaps we bring him down here before he goes to breakfast. That way you can impress on him the importance of him eating and why it is necessary for him to be monitored.”

“Sounds like you are asking Lieutenant Eames to play the disciplinarian,” Carver observed, though to be honest, he wanted to see Goren. Alex had said that Bobby wasn’t ready for visitors and he hadn’t wanted to push the issue.

“No,” Eames replied, glaring in Basil’s direction, “I’ll do it. It’s fine.”

Ron wondered if the lieutenant was just a little bit eager to show up the others in the room.

“Mr. Taylor,” Fray said apathetically, “if you’d be so kind as to retrieve Detective Goren and bring him here?”

However unsure of the decision the counselor might’ve been, Justin followed direction well, as he practically jumped out of his seat to follow through on the director’s order. And within moments he was gone, the door swing shut behind him.

“How long do you think this is going to take?” Miss Basil questioned, as though she was personally being inconvenienced.

“Why? Do you have somewhere better to be?” Eames returned in equal measure. “Let me guess, you have a mani-pedi appointment you don’t want to late for.”

“ _Ahem_ ,” Fray coughed lightly. “Alex, I assure you that everyone’s focus is on the matter at hand. Miss Basil just tends to be impatient.”

“I’m not impatient,” Katherine Elizabeth retorted.

To which the director returned an exasperated look.

“All right,” the proprietor admitted, “maybe a little.”

A lull in the conversation followed before Carver turned towards Basil, intent on having her answer a few personal questions.

“I wonder, Miss Basil,” Carver inquired, “how is it that a young woman, such as yourself, became the sole owner of a prestigious mental health facility?”

Surprisingly enough, she answered freely, “I inherited it from my Grandfather when I was in college. It was my freshman year, so it would’ve been 2006.”

“That must have been extremely difficult for you. How old would you have been back then? Eighteen?”

“Nineteen actually. I came home for a week, set Dr. Fray up as the director, before returning back to school for the next few years and obtaining a degree in psychology. After-all, if there’s one thing my grandfather taught me, it was the importance of perseverance”

“And what about your parents?” the attorney questioned.

“Mr. Carver,” Ms. Woods interrupted, “maybe this isn’t the right time to be asking those sorts of questions.”

“I’m merely curious to know more about the woman so vested in my friend’s care,” Carver replied curtly.

“Marjorie is right,” Fray added. “Katherine Elizabeth’s personal life isn’t why we are here.”

“It may not be why we are here,” Eames noted. “But now I’m curious as well. What do you say, Kathy? Where are your parents?”

“Her name is Katherine Elizabeth,” Fray responded, his tone growing dark. Then directing his next comment to the proprietor, “You don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s okay, Everett,” Basil said, with a wave of her hand. “It’s not like it’s a secret. My parents were both deceased by the time I was five. That’s when I came to New York to live with my father’s father. Is that what you wanted to know? Or do you want all the gory details?”

The creak of the door swinging back open, as Justin re-entered, brought an abrupt end to the conversation. Holding the door open for the patient, he ushered Goren into the room. Carver, who was closest to the door, got up from his seat and offered it to the detective. Supporting himself with the use of forearm crutches, the Bobby made his way painstakingly inside before crumpling into the seat.

“His legs are just sore from over-exertion yesterday,” Justin remarked, reassuringly. “He should be fine in a couple of days since getting up and moving around will help loosen those muscles.

Seeing Goren like this was unsettling. Carver knew from what Eames had told him that the man he once knew had been injured and lost weight but he wasn’t expecting to the sight before his eyes: a painfully thin and frail man, clean shaven but with a shock of mussy dark hair, and his once alert brown eyes now almost dull. Before letting his gaze fall to his hands, folded in his lap, Bobby had glanced quickly around the room. Those eyes had passed over the lawyer, without even a moment’s hesitation, with no sign of acknowledgment or recognition.

“Mr. Carver,” Katherine Elizabeth said quietly but with a smile, as she motioned to the seat on her left, “please have a seat.”

While Ron took his seat, Eames had reached over and taken Bobby’s hand in her own, his other hand remained in his lap. Carver couldn’t help but notice the distinctive scar along the inside of his left wrist, an apparent suicide attempt, and a serious one at that.

“Bobby,” Eames said quietly, her tone unwaveringly compassionate, “thank you for coming down to meet with us. I know you had a rough day yesterday and there are just a few things we’d like to discuss with you. Is that okay?”

He seemed hesitant to answer but eventually, Goren nodded his head.

“Good,” the lieutenant said, smiling brightly. “First off, your NG-tube, you removed it. Does that mean you are willing to at least try to eating again?”

The pause was longer but this time the answer was ‘yes’ as well.

“Robert,” Majorie said, “I think I speak for everyone at the table when I say that we are all very pleased with that decision. However, some of the other decisions you made have us a bit concerned.”

“Decisions like leaving the Institute without someone there to assist you,” Justin added.

“An ill-advised choice to have made but,” Carver said, deciding to add to the discussion,” then again, you were never one to choose the conventional path.”

“Which is to say,” Eames commented gently, “that perhaps the conventional tactics aren’t for you. And for that reason, it is understandable why you took off on your own. It may not always be the most pleasant environment but it’s safe here. And that’s all any of us want is for you to stay safe, at least until you’re back on your feet, so to speak. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Lifting up his right hand, Goren made a knocking motion. Carver wasn’t familiar with the gesture but assumed it meant ‘yes’ because Eames continued.

“So perhaps, we need to switch tactics. Dr. Fray and his staff have agreed to ease up on the constant supervision if you agree to wear an ankle monitor. Do you think that’s something you can agree to?”

It occurred to Ron that he hadn’t heard Miss Basil speak since she had told him to sit down. Peering over at her, he noticed that she had her head down, not looking at Fray or Eames or even Goren. Instead, she’d taken a pen and had started doodling on the edges of the papers in front of her. For having a “vested” interest, she certainly didn’t look interested right now.

Goren still hadn’t answered the question by the time Carver shifted his gaze back to the detective.

“Robert,” Fray remarked, “I know that you might see this as a punishment but really it’s not. You were never supposed to leave the grounds in the first place. A monitoring device will simply allow us to make sure you are on the grounds without having to have you locked up or watched 24/7. Really, it gives you more freedom to move about the facility with more autonomy.”

“I think it’s the best choice,” Basil finally chimed in, still focused on drawing on margins of the papers.

Huffing with a bit of indignation, Goren made the knocking gesture for ‘yes.’

“Perfect,” Basil announced, standing up, “then I think we’re done here. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

As she made her way around the table and towards the exit, she was caught unexpectedly by Goren who had grasped a hold of her arm.

“Hey,” she said softly, looking down at him and meeting his fervent gaze, “it’s going to be alright. Don’t you worry.” Lifting her hand up and her arm out of his grip, she patted him on the chest before stepping away, letting her hand drift up and over his shoulder as she walked out the door.

Taylor was next to leave, taking Goren with him to go have breakfast, followed shortly by Ms. Woods.

“I assume you know the way out,” Fray remarked, as he too turned to exit.

“Yes,” Eames replied.

“Then I’ll leave you to it,” Fray remarked. “Good day.” And he too left the room.

“That was…,” the lieutenant paused, as she collected her thoughts.

“It was effective,” Carver supplied.

“Yes, but why do I feel like we haven’t really achieved anything?” she asked.

“Because that girl felt the need to flex what limited power she has to influence the situation.”

“She’s not a girl,” Eames asserted. “But yes, I agree. She’s more than just a pretty face. And did you see the way Bobby looked at her.”

“He certainly didn’t look that way at me,” the lawyer replied. “It’s like he didn’t even know who I was. But the way he looked at her, it was as if he really wanted her to stay.”

“You don’t think there’s something that could be going on between them?” Eames asked.

“Not on her end of things,” Carver said as he stood up and motioned for the lieutenant to follow him out. “But if Goren is still one-tenth of the man he used to be, he’ll be unable to resist an enigmatic person such as Katherine Elizabeth Basil.”

“A puzzle he wants to solve,” Eames replied, “that makes sense. But then again, I wished she’d just stay away. I’m worried that she could be dangerous.”

They had reached the exit of the institute by this point and were standing outside of Eames’s vehicle, she didn’t have much longer before she needed to head back to the field office.

“You know,” Ron noted, “it just occurred to me who she reminds me of.”

“Who?”

“Dye her hair blonde and give her a mild Australian accent and you’d have—“

“Nicole Wallace?” Eames rolled her eyes. “Ugh.”

“You know,” the attorney postulated, “it might prudent to look into Miss Basil’s background, see if she has any skeletons we should know about.”

“That’s not a half bad idea,” she replied, “I’ll do that.”

“Be sure to keep me in the loop,” he said. “I’d like to see this through if you don’t mind.”

“Sounds good to me.”

The two of them then said their farewell and went their separate ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a long time coming. It was a bit of a pain to write and then I had also gotten distracted by making a whole character index, which you should definitely go check out ;)
> 
> Characters in this chapter:  
> [Ron Carver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33523272)  
> [Alexandra  Eames](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510174)  
> [Robert Goren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509454)  
> [Everett Fray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510513)  
> [Katherine Elizabeth Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510687)  
> [Marjorie Woods](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33523539)  
> [Justin Taylor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33523764)  
> Characters Mentioned:  
> [Nicole Wallace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33519126)


	14. Vunerability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Basil and Mr. Jones spend some quality time together.

Quickly descending the last few steps of the Department of Corrections center, Colin’s shoes hit the pavement as he made his way over to the black town car waiting for him at the curb.The chill of the November wind pulled at the edges of his leather jacket and he flipped the collar up in an attempt to prevent the tendrils of cold air from reaching his neck and crawling down his torso. Opening the car door, he slid inside, sitting next to the car’s occupant.

“Miss Basil,” he greeted her solemnly.

“Mr. Jones,” she returned, a matter of factly, as the driver pulled away from the curb.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, casting his gaze down. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“You mean you didn’t know who else to call that wouldn’t fault you for getting picked up on solicitation charges?” Katherine Elizabeth’s tone was even and steady as she quickly surmised why she was here and not one of his friends.

“ _Hmpfh_ ,” he muttered. “Well, that’s one way to put it.”

“You’re lucky I came. After all, you did stand me up on Halloween,” she replied, this time with what seemed like the smallest trace of annoyance.

Not wanting her to be displeased with him, Colin was quick to explain, “My sincerest apologies about that but I had gotten a last minute call-back.”

Snarkily, she questioned, “How did that work out for you?”

“I’m still waiting to hear back from the casting agent.”

“Ah, I see. So you weren’t picked up for offering the director a blow-job?”

“No,” a Jones replied a bit disgruntled. “I received a client referral. And, well, that client turned out to be a cop.”

“Mother of Sin,” she exclaimed mildly, “Colin if you’re not careful, you’re going to get yourself deported. Then I’d have to take a plane every time I wanted to see you.”

Despite the rough and taxing night he had had, Miss Basil’s quaint little turns of phrase brought a hint of a smile to his lips. For some odd reason, she didn’t tolerate what she referred to as _vulgar language_. Well, at least not during the course of polite conversation. However, this rule of hers did not apply to the bedroom, where vulgarity was not only allowed but encouraged.

“Katherine Elizabeth,” he exclaimed in a mocking fashion, the sultry sounds of his mellow English accent were enough to pull a smile from even the hardest of New Yorkers, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to make an honest man out of me.”

“I’m not sure I’m the type of person to make an honest man out of anyone,” the young woman’s tone was suddenly sullen, as she looked away. There wasn’t even the briefest trace of her typical mischievous attitude. Something was clearly bothering her.

Colin prodded gently, “Is something the matter? I’m sorry about Halloween, I really am. I know you enjoy it when we go out and chase some tail together but surely you didn’t go home empty handed just because I wasn’t there.”

“No,” she remarked softly, “it’s not that. Though it was probably for the best you weren’t around, I ended up having my hands full dealing with another matter that evening.”

“Oh?”

“I’d rather not talk about it if you don’t mind.”

If Colin was being honest with himself, Miss Basil was his favorite client. Granted, she was much rougher with him and more selfish than his other clients but there was this inhibited carefree air about her that he found intoxicating. Not only that but her wicked intelligence coupled with uncommon beauty made him weak at the knees. It troubled him to see her more reserved and lacking her normal enthusiasm for life.

“Have you been sleeping?” he queried, giving her a thorough look over.

“Do I look like I’ve been sleeping?”

“I can help you out there,” he said, sliding his hand on her knee and down her thigh.

“Colin, no. Not now.”

“Really?” He was surprised but withdrew his hand. She’d never turned him down before, but then of course, in the past, she had always been the one to call him, not the other way around.

“You smell like you’ve spent the better part of a day inside of cell within close proximity of unwashed men.”

That at least explained her reluctance.

“Fair point,” he replied before turning to look out the window. “Why are we still on West?” Colin asked, referencing the street they were on.

“I’m having the driver drop you off at your apartment,” Katherine Elizabeth replied. “You still live in the Village, don’t you?”

“Oh, of course, I just thought…” he was once again surprised that she wasn’t taking him to Brooklyn to extract her repayment for getting him out of the clink. Was it possible she really wasn’t interested in engaging in their conventional type of exchange? Sex was typically the language they used to communicate since they were both fluent in it.

At a lost for words, Colin didn’t push the issue. And for her part, it didn’t seem like Katherine Elizabeth was in the mood for talking either. A few more minutes passed before the car pulled up in front of his building. Climbing out of the car, Jones turned and extended his hand to Basil.

“Maybe another time,” Basil said, as she remained unmoved in her seat.

She really seemed to be sticking with this disinterested mood of hers, and damn it, he was going to do his best to snap her out of it.

“Come on,” he entreated, “I dislike being in your debt.”

“I’m just not feeling it,” she remarked, curtly.

She was a client, after all, and so he really should respect her wishes and not push the matter. But for some reason, her refusal was having a strange effect on him and he wanted nothing more than to get to the bottom of the why she was behaving in such an odd manner.

“You mistake my intentions madam,” Colin replied, trying a different tact. “It would be the height of improper English etiquette for me not to invite you up for a cuppa.”

“I don’t like tea, too weak.”

“Coffee? No, sorry. You don’t like that either, do you? How about a nice cup of cocoa?”

“Colin…”

“Please, don’t make me stand out here and beg.It’s cold.”

“Fine,” she finally relented, taking his hand and allowing him to help her out of the car, “but don’t get any ideas.”

Giving the driver a wave and watching the car pull away, Katherine Elizabeth followed behind Mr. Jones as he led the way into the building. A brass key made it’s way into the deadbolt on the old single paned glass door that his a large crack in it, running from one corner to another, patched with duct tape. A small landing lined with mailboxes on either side preceded the narrow staircase. Leading her up the staircase, Colin mounted each flight of stairs at a methodical pace.

“What floor do you live on?” Katherine Elizabeth asked.

“Sixth,” he replied.

“And you don’t have an elevator?”

“I can’t really afford a building with a lift, my dear.”

“Well, at least it has character.”

“Ha,” he laughed, “that’s like saying an ugly person has a good personality.”

By the time they reached his floor, he didn’t have much breath left for talking. A moment later, they were inside his tiny flat. Typical of New York living, it was compact. There was a narrow kitchen area on the right and a small square folding table stacked with scripts, resumes, headshots, and bits of mail took up the majority of the dining/living/entry room. Off to the left was a door that led to his bedroom with it’s attached bathroom.

“I’d apologize for the clutter, but when you have a flat this size, there’s not exactly a lot of room for things to go.” He waved his hand at piles of paper. Ever the gentleman, Colin helped Katherine Elizabeth off with her jacket before shrugging off his own and hanging them on the hooks next to the door.

Turning on the electric kettle before he took a stack of mail off of one of the two chairs and motioned for her to sit down. “M’lady.”

“I’ve been in small apartments before,” she said, taking the offered seat, “no need to apologize. Though it could do with a bit of color. Surely, you have something you could hang up on your walls so they don’t look so bare.”

“I’m a bachelor,” he replied, as he readied a pair of mismatched mugs in the kitchen, “those types of things don’t really cross my mind.”

“I see. So I take it you don’t usually have company over?”

“Last person I had up here was my mum.”

“Oh yes,” Miss Basil recalled, “I remember you were _unavailable_ for two weeks when she came to visit. When was that? A year ago?”

“About a year and a half, actually,” Colin replied as he filled each mug with steaming water from the kettle.

Giving her cocoa a stir, he carefully handed it to her before taking a seat opposite of her.

“Thank you,” she said politely. “You know, I’m surprised you don’t have _company_ over more often.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, given your occupation…”

Colin chuckled at the implication but wasn’t put off. He took a sip of his tea before replying, “Just because I sleep with men and women for money doesn’t make me some sort nymphomaniac. I can keep it in my trousers. Besides, I moved to New York to pursue acting. I’d love to do it full-time but I still need to pay the bills.”

“So what you’re saying is you get enough sex from your clients that you don’t feel the need to pursue a personal relationship? Seems kind of sad.”

Colin thought, “ _Paying for sex so as to avoid personal relationships is even sadder_ ,” but he was wise enough not to say it out loud. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “Sex work can be very fulfilling but personal relationships do tend be nonexistent. Still, I’m going to start scaling back, especially after last night’s incident.”

“A prudent decision, though one that doesn’t apply to me, I hope.”

“Of course not,” he said with a smile. “As long as you don’t run off and get a boyfriend.”

“Boyfriends are more trouble than they are worth,” Katherine Elizabeth said with a grin, her voice ringing with certainty.

“ _Mmmm_ ,” Jones wordlessly agreed before changing the subject. Seeing that she had finished the cup he’d given her, he asked, “Would you like any more cocoa?”

“No,” she replied. “I’m good.”

“Well, in that case,” he said, giving his tea bag one last squidge before draining the contains of his mug, “if you’d like to follow me.”

Pulling his shirt off over his head, Colin headed towards the bedroom. This action prompted Katherine Elizabeth to exclaim, “What are you doing? I told you I wasn’t interested in engaging in any sort tomfoolery today.”

“You also said I smelled like unwashed men,” he replied, “and you’re right. I really do need to take a quick shower. We can continue this conversation in the water closet if you don’t mind. And it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

“Okay,” she acquiesced, with a smirk, “but don’t you get any sort of ideas.”

The two of them entered his bedroom, a singular window covered by heavy curtains prevented light from the outside from getting in and casting light on the queen mattress that lay directly on the floor, sans boxspring or frame. A small wardrobe on the far right held most of his clothing and belongings, though there were a few items strewn about on the floor. Coming around the corner of the bedroom, there was a door to the lavatory that comprised of just a toilet, sink, and shower stall.

Shedding the rest of his clothes, Jones quickly jumped into the stall. Sliding the shower curtain closed, he started the water, shivering slightly as the cold water hit his bare flesh. It only took a few seconds for the water to warm up and he stepped fully under the stream.

“Colin?” came Katherine Elizabeth’s voice, as it penetrated through the plastic divider.

“ _Hmm_ ,” he replied, as grabbed a bar of soap and began to lather up his torso.

“Do you think I’m incapable of compassion?” she asked hesitantly.

“ _Finally_ ,” Jones thought. “ _It’s about time she told me what was troubling her. Maybe we can get this sorted and she’ll go back to being her normal self_.”

Concern in his voice, Colin asked, “Did someone actually say that to you?”

“That and a few other things.”

“Really? I’m surprised that someone actually had the balls say that you. Though I’ve always thought you didn’t give much credence to other peoples’ opinions.”

“I don’t. It’s just…” she trailed off.

“Some bitch hit a nerve?”

“Colin! Language,” she scolded him. “And actually, it was a man.”

“A man?! You let some bloke get away with saying you are incapable of compassion.” The idea of anyone speaking to Miss Basil in such a manner, particularly a man, seemed completely incomprehensible. He paused in the middle of washing his hair long enough for the soap to start running into eyes.

“I didn’t let him get away with anything,” she retorted. “Besides, you didn’t answer my initial questions. Do you think I’m incapable of compassion?”

Taking the time to slowly rinse the shampoo out of his hair before answering, Colin finally said, “To be perfectly honest, Miss Basil, you have many admirable qualities. Compassion just doesn’t happen to be one of them. Though that certainly doesn’t mean you are incapable of it or that you’re some kind of psychopath. Anyone who thinks otherwise isn’t worth your time.”

“That’s kind of you to say but, lately, I’m beginning to wonder …”

Stepping out of the stall, Colin took the towel she had grabbed for him and began to dry off.

“Happens to the best of us, love,” he remarked, placing his hand under her chin and bringing it up so that her eyes met his.Bending down, he brushed his lips against hers.

Katherine Elizabeth turned her head, saying, “Colin, no.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have enough cash on hand to pay you.”

“You came and picked me up from the Corrections Center. We’ll call it even.”

“Can’t I just want to do something nice for you without expecting something in return?”

“Just because you don’t expect me to repay you, doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

“So it’s just another transaction to you,” Katherine Elizabeth said, looking down. “That’s not really how I’m feeling at the moment.”

This vulnerability Basil was showing was more alluring to him than her forceful dominance had ever been. Colin had never wanted a woman more in his entire life.

Dropping the towel, Colin crossed into the bedroom and laid on the bed as he called over his shoulder, “Well maybe I’ll just go to sleep then. Turn out the light as you leave. That is unless you’d care to join me?”

Without saying a word, Katherine Elizabeth got up to leave, flicking the switch and plunging the room into darkness. He couldn’t see her at this point but, due to the lack of sound coming from the corner, she was clearly still standing in the doorway, motionless.

“Katherine Elizabeth,” Colin said softly, “come to bed.”

The sound of shoes being shed preceded the light footsteps come over to him. He sat up with his back against the wall as the mattress dipped down and Basil climbed onto the bed.

She moved so she was straddling his legs and facing him directly, saying, “Can I trust you, Colin? I feel like I don’t know myself right now. I need someone just to let me be me.”

Unsure of what to say, he nodded his agreement, a pointless gesture since she couldn’t see him. Katherine was so close, Colin could smell the sweet chocolate on her breath. That’s when she leaned in, one hand on his chest the other behind his head, and started kissing him, now he could taste it. At first, it was just her lip’s light caress, but then she began to hungrily press her mouth against his.

“I know it’s not true but … tell me you love me,” Basil requested.

“I love you,” Colin replied without a moment’s hesitation.

Katherine Elizabeth continued greedily kissing him. She pulled away for ajust second to say, “Again.”

“I love you.”

“More.”

Colin repeated his mantra as her mouth moved from his mouth to his neck. Katherine Elizabeth’s hand fell to his hips and he made to move but her hand on his chest kept him seated. Her other hand slid down his flat chest and down his stomach, only to stop on Colin’s rising cock. Stroking him and kissing him a few more times before she pulled back.

She briefly inquired, “Condom?”

Twisting to the side, Colin reached for a pair of discarded trousers on the floor next to the bed where he was sure he had a packet or two in the pockets. As he did this, Katherine Elizabeth scooted back a bit and before Jones had sat back up she had dropped her head down and took his now hard cock into her mouth.

Colin gasped in surprise has wet heat surrounded his member. The most hardcore dominate woman he knew was sucking his dick and it felt so good. He moved his hand to the back of her neck, running his fingers through the long hair. Feeling the tip of her tongue flip up and flick the underside of his member, Jones threw his head back as he revealed in the sensation. He didn’t know why she was acting so altruistic since never before had she acted in a manner that indicated that she was the least bit concerned about his pleasure, but at this point, he didn’t care.

“Can you see me?” she whispered as she brought her head up next to his.

“No,” his tone was low and husky.

The sounds of a zipper being pulled down and the rustling of fabric indicated that Basil was pulling off her dress and Colin was quick to assist her with that venture. His hands then quickly finding the clasps of her bra before softly raking down her bare sides. Before as she had always worn tight-fitting lingerie during their previous encounters that both prohibited him from touching or seeing the skin on her back or stomach. He always assumed she had some vain body image issues and her making sure he couldn’t see her in the dark only confirmed his suspicions.

She was still wearing her underwear but he was quick to pull it aside as he traced his fingers along the folds of her sex. Her slick wetness warm against his fingers as they delved into her heat, his thumb caressing her clit.

“Fuck me,” she breathed. “Right now. All I want is to feel good. You make me feel good, Colin.”

Laughing silently to himself, as it was clear Miss Basil had wantonly abandoned her rule about the used of vulgarity.

Opening the foil of the package and rolling the condom down his cock, Jones quickly lined himself up with her cunt as she sunk down on to him.

“I feel good around you, don’t I?” Katherine Elizabeth asked, her voice soft and sweet.

“So good,” Colin replied, speaking only the truth, as his member was surrounded by the tight pulsating heat of Katherine Elizabeth’s body.

Moving with fervor as she rode his cock, rocking back and forth on her knees, she panted with exertion. For his part, Jones had one hand on her hips, his thumb reaching around fondle the tight bundle of nerves of her clitoris. The other hand was on her soft small breast, cupping it tightly, pinching the nipple in the space between his thumb and the palm.

“ _Aaahhh_ ,” she breathed, softly, “fuck.”

Colin matched the level of his voice to hers, “Fuck, your cunt is tight.”

“And your thick slutty cock is loving it, isn’t it?” she asked, bending her head down and biting softly at his ear.

Fully encased in her vagina, Jones dropped his other hand down to her hip and started thrusting up as best he could, he legs splayed wide for stability and leverage.

“ _Mmmmhhhh_ ,” she groaned as she rode his thick member, squeezing it tightly as he penetrated her from below.

“Oh fuck,” Colin called out. Normally he lasted much longer than this, but given the fact that he had been jonesing for her for a good portion of the afternoon and his sense of touch was heightened due to the dark, he wasn’t going to last much longer. Her pussy was slick and hot, her skin smooth and soft, that arse curved and slightly muscular, her breasts small but supple, the nipples pert and attentive, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

Moving her backward and onto her back, he pulled out, his dick slapping his abdomen as he adjusted position as he kneeled between her legs, hunched over so he could suck on her nipples, feeling her arch underneath him.

“Fuck!” she cried out loudly. “Get your fucking cock back inside me.”

Releasing the bud from his mouth, he asked, as he practically ripped her flimsy knickers off of her legs, “Is that what you want? You want me to worship your hungry cunt with my fucking cock.”

Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed her hips and forced himself back inside her core. Thrusting into her repeatedly as the wet sounds of her sex greeted his member and her moans became louder and louder. Her hands gripping his forearms so tightly, he was sure they would leave marks. And then, she was climaxing around his cock, her pussy spasming forcefully as she orgasmed. He couldn’t help but join her in that moment of ecstasy as he too came, filling the rubber sheath with cum.

Rolling off of her, his rapid breath slowing gradually, he felt the glowing warmth of endorphins flow through his body. It was as if he was floating.

“Holy Mother of Sin,” Katherine Elizabeth said quietly, “that was good.”

“Indeed,” Colin muttered drowsily in agreement, pulling the condom off of his sensitive member and tossing it to the side.

***

Not really being able to tell if it was night or day, Colin’s eyes fluttered open, seeing nothing but the dark inky blackness of his room. To his right lay a naked woman, sound asleep under the covers they shared. Momentarily disoriented, it took Colin a few seconds to remember that he had invited Katherine Elizabeth back to his place and given her a thorough fucking. A smile flitted across his lips as he remembered but the next moment he realized the reason he had awoken and got up quickly, feeling for the door to the loo. Closing the door, he flipped the switch, squinting hard as his eyes adjusted to the light.

It didn’t take long to finishing his business and as he gently opened the door a path of light was cast across the bed, illuminating the sleeping form of Miss Basil. She was only partially covered by the blankets he had folded back when getting up. As his gaze fell upon her bare back, what he saw stopped him in his tracks. Though apparently faded with time, a maze of discolored dull pink scars painted her otherwise pale skin.

To him, it looked as though she had been flayed open and sewn shut again. Some of the markings ran linear along the base of her spine and others looped around and crossed over to her front. The lines, speckled with pinpricks of pink tissue on either side, were not consistent in breadth. While some of the lines were thin, others were wide, indicating deep open wounds. Besides the scores of striations, he took note of the odd roughly circular scars that were encompassed by triangular markings.

“ _Bloody hell,_ ” he thought. “ _What happened to her?_ ”

She shifted slightly, burrowing deeper into the covers and Colin quickly flipped off the switch, not wanting the light to disturb her. Climbing back into bed with her, he placed his arm around her and drew her close to his chest, suddenly desperate to cover those scars. Closing his eyes, he hoped sleep would return to him once more, but it did not.

As he lay in the dark, his mind poured over the details of what he had just seen. The sheer amount of damaged tissued was disturbing. Moreover, the placement of many of the lacerations and puncture wounds appeared as if they had been made intentionally. They looked deliberate.

The question no longer _what_ had happened to her but _who_ and _why_.

It was clear to him now that she had only been trying to prevent him from seeing the scars, instead of her being vainly sensitive as he had previously supposed. He was naïve before, he knew that now. For someone who had been hurt so badly before, it only made sense that she would want to protect herself, not let anyone too close.And here he was, someone she normally paid to keep at an arm’s length, getting too close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters in this chapter:  
> [Katherine Elizabeth Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510687)  
> [Colin Jones](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33514572)


	15. Relatively Benign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby enjoys an early November morning but a visit from Katherine Elizabeth shakes up the rest of his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See End Notes for Character List :)

The grass in the courtyard was covered in frost and crunched slightly under the patient’s feet as he stepped gingerly into the garden. He didn’t have long out here, by himself. Breakfast would be starting soon and he’d be expected to dine with the rest of the residents. Not showing up was not an option.

His stomach gurgled unpleasantly at the thought of food. Beginning to eat solid foods again had been a rough transition for him. At least the staff was letting him take it slowly and gradually. And Miss Basil had been right, it had gained him some leniency from the institute’s director.

The cold tugged at the pull-over he was wearing, though he could do little about it at the moment seeing as his hands were already occupied. In one hand he held a cane and in the other, a fluffy toy penguin. The scared boy, that he had come to be in Chicago and whose influence still fluctuated inside him, had insisted he bring Miss Alex along. Pressing on, Goren walked past the service door, newly equipped with a shiny silver keypad, and over by the small pond. Sinking down slowly, he folded his legs beneath him as he settled down to savor the few moments he had outside.

Ignoring the chill that ran up and down his spine, he nestled his lovey in his lap, closed his eyes, slowly breathed the crisp morning air, and practiced some of the mindfulness techniques his therapist had taught him. After maybe a dozen or so deep breaths, an odd humming sensation, almost a vibration, came over him. Something wasn’t quite as it had been in the previous moment.

Moving his hand down to his ankle, Goren felt the cold hard plastic of location monitor. No, the sensation hadn’t come from that. An unexpected tapping noise reached his ears and his eyes flew open. Coming down the pathway was the institute’s proprietor, wrapped in a long beige woolen coat that stopped just below the tops of her brown leather boots.

“Bobby,” she chided, the Latin words falling gracefully from her lips, “what are you doing out here? I know you like to be outside but it’s getting too cold.”

Bring his hands together and holding his penguin, Goren looked down at his lap, not wanting to answer Basil. The truth is he was ashamed. Breaking into her house and confronting her had not only landed him in hot water but her as well. He hadn’t seen her since that tumultuous staff meeting the morning after the incident and could only surmise that she was angry with him.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment for a reason?” she asked as she delicately sat down on the grass across from him, careful to keep her knees together since she was wearing a skirt beneath the long coat.

“I’m sorry,” Bobby said ever so softly, not wanting to meet the perceptive gaze of those bright blue eyes.

“Sorry? Sorry for what?” Basil inquired, her tone soft and kind.

Reluctant to answer, he shrugged his shoulders.

“Come on, you can talk to me,” she tenderly prodded. “ I’m not mad at you or anything. I just wanted to chat for a little bit, that all. Now tell me, what is it that you are apologizing for?”

“Getting you in trouble,” he answered hesitantly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Fray was mad.”

“I can handle Fray,” she said confidently. “It’s your pocket-sized lieutenant who just about gave me a run for my money.” Miss Basil’s passing description of Eames elicited a fleeting grin, barely tugging on the corners of his mouth. She must have noticed as she too smiled in return, though her face quickly became serious again as she said, “You do realize she wanted to remove you to another facility, right?”

Nodding, Goren said, “That’s why she brought Carver along.”

“It would maybe help,” Katherine Elizabeth stated carefully, “if you started talking again. Preferably to your former partner. You know, I think she blames herself, rather harshly, for what happened to you in Chicago. Talking to her could help ease some of that anxiety she’s carrying around with her.”

“No,” said as he shook his head, “she won’t understand what I’m saying.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest you should talk to her in Latin,” Miss Basil replied, a small smile flickering across her face.

“No,” Bobby said anxiously, glancing up to meet her eyes, his voice wavering, “it’s against the rules.”

The cheerful brightness in her eyes immediately died as she asked sternly, “Whose rules are those, Bobby?”

Blinking away a few tears that had somehow gathered in the corners of his eyes, he didn’t dare respond. Clearly, even alluding to Father and Daddy had made his sister angry. Clasping the stuffed animal to his chest, Bobby tried to calm himself down.

Sitting in silence for what seemed like an eternity, Katherine Elizabeth finally said, “It’s hard, I know. Trust me, I’ve been there. But…”

“But what?” Goren asked, surprised that she trailed off.

“I can’t help but wonder, what… um… what gave me away?” she asked uncertainly as if she wasn’t sure whether or not she was permitted to do so.

“Oh,” he said, caught off guard by her question, “at _their_ house, there was a photo of you holding a brown teddy bear with a red bow tie. You were probably only four or five when it was taken.”

Looking up at her, Goren could see that she didn’t quite understand the implications of what he was saying. Taking a deep breath, he elaborated, “When I saw you here, the resemblance was so striking that I wanted to … I had to find out. So I went to your house, found that same bear, and saw the painting of you and your grandfather. It confirmed my suspicions.”

Shaking her head, she looked away from him, as if she was having difficulty processing what he was saying, “My old bear and a picture? You’ve got to be joking. That’s what did me in? But why? I mean, why concern yourself with a girl in a random photo you found?”

“Father said you were my sister.”

And all of a sudden, there it was, the thing he hated the most, pity.

“Bobby,” Katherine Elizabeth replied, her voice heavy empathic condescension, “just because the same men made us call them our Daddies doesn’t mean we are related. And you certainly don’t need to be calling them that anymore.”

“What else should I call them?” he asked, perplexed.

Maybe his confusion made her angry, as she answered sharply, “By their names of course.”

Her tone made him reflexively flinched away from her.

Seeing him falter, the young proprietor walked back her manner as she softly explained, “Calling evil things by their proper names helps to alleviate some of that power hold over you.”

“But I … I don’t know their names,” Bobby, glanced away, helpless and ashamed.

Clearly stunned, Miss Basil inquired, “What do you mean you don’t know their names?”

“I haven’t ever heard anyone refer to them by name,” he explained. It was true that, during his many therapy sessions and time with Eames, no one had mentioned their names. Probably in an attempt to reduce any traumatic memories, the Daddies had barely been mentioned unless someone was reassuring him that they had been locked in jail and were no longer capable of hurting him. Occasionally, Taylor or Woods would ask if he wanted to talk about “the men who hurt him” but Bobby had always answered no.

“Lee Barrett and Dean Kipling,” she practically spat the words.

“I…” Goren began but trailed off, rolling their names in his head. “So that would make Kipling…?”

“Daddy and Barrett Father,” Katherine Elizabeth supplied. “I know. It’s a shock to find out their real names. I know I was certainly taken aback when I was scrolling through my newsfeed and saw their faces for the first time in twenty years. It was like my nightmares had come to life. But that ended up being how I found out about you.”

“I was on the news?!” Goren gasped in horror.

“ _They_ were on the news, not you. The police out in Chicago kept a pretty tight lid on your identity. Only thing I knew was that you existed and that you were once an NYPD officer. I had to send Fray out there to find out more and to bring you back. It wasn’t that I trying to insert myself into the situation but I knew I could offer better treatment for you here than you would find anywhere else. I fully intended not to get involved but those intentions are, shall we say, unrealistic at this point.”

“I appreciate it,” Bobby said softly and with a weak smile. “I like having you around.”

Reaching out, she took his hand in hers, and that odd humming that had never quite gone away intensified. It seemed to be emanating from her and was enhanced whenever he touched her.

“Honestly,” Basil replied, “I don’t mind being around you either. Now I’m sure you’re running late for breakfast so we better get going.”

“Katherine Elizabeth?” he timidly asked as she stood up, brushing off bits of grass and moisture from her coat.

“Yes?”

“I need to tell you something,” he stated as she helped him awkwardly get to his feet, holding onto Miss Alex for him.

“And what is that?”

“When Fath— I mean Barrett told me you were my sister, it made sense. Logically, it made sense.”

“How does that make any sense?” Basil asked, her voice full of skepticism. “Though I don’t like to admit it, biologically speaking, it’s likely either Kipling or Barrett is my father. It’s probably Barrett because of the brown hair. And for him to be your father as well is just illogical given the age difference between us. And even if another man fathered me, there is little chance it’s your father because, once again, you’ve got the age difference.”

“I’d like to be wrong but I don’t think I am,” Goren stated with as much conviction as he could muster. He needed her to take him seriously.

“Okay Bobby,” she relented, “I’ll look into it.

“But there is one last thing I wanted to talk to you about before we go back inside. You mentioned earlier about rules. Now, I don’t know for sure what rules you had to follow back in Chicago but they don’t apply here. You’re not in Kansas anymore Dorothy. My institute, my rules, understand?”

He wasn’t sure exactly where she was going with this but he nodded in agreement as he followed her down the pathway to go back inside.

“Good,” she continued, “now there is only one rule here and that rule is respect. Fray, Woods, Taylor, and all the others, they deserve your respect. Please, I’m asking you, respect them by stop resisting the efforts they make to help you. But as important as it is to respect others, it is more important to respect yourself. Respect that you have limitations and don’t try and exceed them. But in that same vein, don’t limit yourself from doing what you want to do just because of the influences you have been under in the past.”

As the approached the door, they were met by Dr. Fray.

“Good morning, Robert,” said the director, his tone wary. “Katherine Elizabeth, I didn’t know you had come in this morning. My apologies for not greeting you sooner.”

“No worries, Everett. Only came to take a little stroll with my friend,” Basil responded sweetly, having switched back over to English. “We’re just headed back inside. If that’s okay with you?”

“Of course,” answered Fray. But Goren could tell, by the look on his face, that the director disliked seeing the two of them alone together.

***

“Robert?” Mr. Taylor asked, tapping his pen on the pad of paper he was holding, trying to get the patient’s attention. “Robert, did you hear me?”

The truth was Goren hadn’t been paying much attention, he was too preoccupied going over the conversation he had had with Katherine Elizabeth to bother listening.

“Robert,” Taylor admonished, “the whole point of our sessions is endeavoring to have a conversation so we can work through the different obstacles you face in your day to day life. How can we have a conversation if you don’t even listen to what I am saying?”

The man was clearly a bit frustrated but was doing his best to handle the situation in a professional manner.

“ _The least you could do is at least attempt to follow Miss Basil’s rule and give the man the respect he deserves_ ,” Goren told himself.

Sighing inwardly, partially wishing he still had his penguin with him, he sat up in his chair. Goren gave the counselor some eye-contact before making the sign for ‘sorry’ by rubbing his closed fist on his chest in a brief circular motion.

“You know,” Justin stated, “despite what others may believe, you’ve really made remarkable progress these past few months. When you came here, you were extremely anxious and reluctant to engage with others. But look at you now. You’re moving around on your own, eating, and making independent decisions. The last really big hurdle you have to surmount is communication, though even there you’ve come along way.”

Attempting to brush off the praise by rolling his eyes, Bobby was inwardly pleased by the counselor’s acknowledgment.

“See,” Taylor proclaimed, astutely noticing the patient’s action, “that’s what I mean by communication. Sure, you’re not exactly saying anything but by your non-verbal body language but I can tell that you not only understand what I’m saying but in your own way you also engage in the discussion. And then, of course, you do use sign language which is a very concrete form of communication. A fact that shows your willingness to be a part of the process. I’m really quite proud of you, Robert. And you should be proud as well.

“Now, moving on. Have you been practicing your mindfulness techniques?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Goren signed moving his closed fist in a knocking motion.

“Good,” the counselor replied, as he looked over his notes. “That’s what you go out in the garden and do in the mornings, isn’t it?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Goren signed again.

“But this morning, you were interrupted by Miss Basil. Did that bother you?”

Wrinkling his forehead in confusion, the former detective was taken by surprise by Taylor’s question. “ _No_ ,” he signed, tapping his fingers closed. He wondered why the counselor thought the proprietor’s presence might have been a bother.

“I only ask because Miss Basil isn’t exactly known for her _consideration_ of others,” Justin supplied, ”and I didn’t want you to think that you have to put up with her just because she owns the place. However, as long as you are comfortable with her around, then there’s no problem. But if there is, I can speak to the director, see if he can do more to limit her involvement.”

“ _No!_ ” Bobby quickly and distinctly signed. Honestly, Mr. Taylor’s assertion that Katherine Elizabeth was some kind of nuisance was offensive. This man was her employee and yet here he was bad mouthing her to patients. The irritation Goren felt must’ve shown on his face because Justin didn’t drop subject.

“Robert, I don’t know if Doctor Fray or Ms. Woods mentioned this to you but I think someone needs to caution you about her,” the counselor mentioned, his tone growing serious. “Overall, she’s relatively benign but she has acted rather maliciously in the past. I just want to make sure you are fully aware that Miss Basil isn’t as sweet and caring as she might lead you to believe.”

Tightening his jaw, Goren could feel his face turn beet-red. He didn’t have to listen to his. It was obvious that Taylor had no idea who Katherine Elizabeth really was and what she had endured. Without another thought, he pushed himself to a standing position and proceed to stalk out of the room.

***

Perhaps storming out of his therapy session hadn’t been the best idea, though it was probably for the best Taylor didn’t come after him. On the other hand, he’d left his cane behind so he was forced to lean up against the wall for support. He wouldn’t last long out here on his own before an aide found him and escorted him back to his living quarters, or worse, to Fray’s office.

The anger that had propelled him out of the room had also left him momentarily disoriented and consequently, he entered through the next available doorway in an attempt to get his bearings. The familiar warm musty smell of leather-bound volumes filled his nostrils. He didn’t even need his eyes to know he had entered the library. Lowering his eyelids, he drew in a deep breath, almost tasting the presence of the billions of words contained within the thousands of books stored in the room.

Having been raised by a former librarian, it was little wonder that Goren had grown to be a bit of a bibliophile. In fact, he was hard pressed to ever get rid of a book once he had acquired it. At least, that was before Chicago and the Daddies had gotten a hold of him.

“ _No. Not Daddies_ ,” he reminded himself. “ _Barrett and Kipling_.”

Making his way over to the shelves, he let his fingers drag across the row of books, savoring the feeling of the bindings as his fingers lightly bumped along them.

“ _My most important investigative tool_ ,” Goren fondly recalled, “ _was my library card._ ”

Lifting a book off the shelf, he flipped it open, examining the contents.

“ _What are you doing?!_ ” the boy practically screamed, slamming the book shut. “ _It’s against the rules!_ ”

“ _But Katherine Elizabeth said those rules don’t apply anymore_ ,” Goren told himself gently.

“ _She also said that you needed to respect Taylor. Somehow I don’t think stomping out of your therapy session was what she had in mind_ ,” Bobby quipped as he placed the book back.

Grappling for control of himself had suddenly become more difficult as the boy rebelled against the seasoned detective.

“ _Bobby_ , _I couldn’t just sit there and listen to him call her malicious_ ,” Goren thought as he reached another book.

“ _Stop! It’s forbidden_ ,” Bobby said emphatically, making the detective hesitate in his actions.

“ _I know we let our emotions get the better of us but if I could just read for a little bit it will help settle us down_.”

“ _It might calm you down, perhaps. But I’m not ready_.”

Pulling a small tome down, Goren lowered himself to the ground, the book nestled in his lap.

“ _Don Quixote?_ ” Bobby thought. “ _Really?_ ”

“ _It’s a classic_ ,” he thought with a small fleeting smile.

> Once upon a time there lived in a certain village in a province of Spain called the Mancha, a gentleman named Quizada or Queseda — for indeed historians differ about this — whose house was full of lances, halberd, and such other armors and weapons.

“ _No_ ,” Bobby said, “ _close it. I just can’t_.”

“ _But we can_.”

“ _It’s too much. Not yet. Please not yet_.”

“ _Respect your limitations_ ," Basil’s voice echoed in his head.

Gingerly closing the book, Goren ran his fingers over the embossed lettering, taking comfort from its very existence.

“ _Well if not this book, then maybe another_ ,” he whispered to himself, taking another book from a nearby shelf. This time he did not open it, knowing it would only agitate his opposing side.

“ _Let me know when you find one in Latin_ ,” the boy requested.

Half an hour and dozens of books later, Goren still hadn’t found a book Bobby would let him read. Though he had managed to make a bit of a disorganized mess as all the books were jumbled in piles around him on the floor. Being rather distracted, he didn’t even notice when one of the orderlies came upon him, cane in hand.

“Robert,” Hernandez called softly, holding out the walking aid, “free time’s over. You need to come with me. Doctor Fray wants to see you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I deeply appreciate any comments or feedback :)
> 
> Also, did you know you can find me on [Tumblr](https://fanficwriter24601.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Characters in this Chapter:  
> [Robert Goren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509454)  
> [Everett Fray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510513)  
> [Katherine Elizabeth Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510687)  
> [Justin Taylor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33523764)  
> [Juan Hernandez](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33513348)
> 
> Characters Mentioned:  
> [Ron Carver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33523272)  
> [Marjorie Woods](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33523539)  
> [Alexandra  Eames](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510174)  
> [Lee Barrett](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509922)  
> [Dean Kipling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510054)


	16. Background

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames goes digging in the Municipal Archives and runs into an old friend.

“Lieutenant?” the officer inquired, as he stopped at Eames’s desk and dropped off a box. “Here are those files you asked for.”

“Oh,” Eames replied, “thank you.”

Perhaps pulling the proprietor’s records was a bit much, but then again, when it came to Bobby’s safety, there wasn’t any length to which she wasn’t willing to go.

Opening up the manila folder that had been on top, Eames quickly assessed the document before moving on to the other files.

The first document was an embossed light pink birth certificate issued from the state of Washington: Katherine Elizabeth Basil born to Michelle Smith and Charles Basil at 11:11 am on the second of January, 1988, in Seattle, WA.

Second, was a list of all known addresses and phone numbers. Oddly enough, there was no address listed in Washington but not surprising since she had only been a young child when she lived there. However, there were addresses for her current residence and her dorm back at NYU.

Third, was her education records. She attended NYU for four years where she achieved decent grades before graduating with a bachelors of science in psychology in 2010.

Fourth, was her financial information, which made Eames’s head spin. It seemed as though Basil was constantly amassing dividends from her various holdings and was merely living off the accruing interest.

“ _Damn_ ,” Eames thought, “ _if only I were that lucky._ ”

The fifth was Basil’s social media accounts. It seemed as though the girl lived her life online and there was far too much for Eames to even begin to sift through. Setting the record aside, Eames reached down into the box and for the next report.

Fingers striking cardboard, Eames was surprised when she looked in the box and found it to be empty. Only five records? Had Katherine Elizabeth completely avoided any contact with the police? Not even the barest of hints of any sort of police report as either a complaint, witness, victim, or suspect, it seemed unlikely. And what about a driving record? There should be more.

“ _If you want something done right_ ,” she contemplated, “ _do it yourself_.”

“O’Leary,” Eames called over to one of the detectives as she pulled on her jacket and stepped out of her office, “if the chief comes looking for me, tell him I had to run down to the municipal archives for a bit.”

***

Most officers would have to sign in with their name, badge number, and case identification, but when the desk sergeant saw Eames come through the door, he merely waived her through to the archive. There were definite perks to being a lieutenant with an extensive history within the department.

The New York City Municipal Archives contained both historical and contemporary records for anything pertaining to government functions. This included but was not limited to photographs, maps, blueprints, court records, census data, and genealogical information. With one million cubic feet of floor to ceiling metal shelves, stacked neatly with nondescript yet uniform cardboard boxes, it was overwhelming at first but this wasn’t Alex’s first rodeo.

Striding quickly past the stacks and over to the database indexing system, Eames thanked her lucky stars that she wasn’t the average citizen that had to file a Freedom of Information form and then wait months to get access to the records she needed. Once at the console, a quick search of the databased resulted in only the same records she had already had in her possession.

Drumming her fingers on the table, Eames contemplated what to do next.

“ _There must be something I’m missing_ ,” she thought. “ _But what? Think, Alex, think. There must be something more, some detail left over-looked._ ”

“ _Details, details, details…_ ” the word repeated itself in her mind until suddenly she remembered.

“ _Do you want all the gory details_?” Miss Basil had said at the meeting.

“Yes,” Eames remarked to no one in particular, “that’s exactly what I want.”

There wouldn’t be any information about Michelle Smith and Charles Basil’s deaths in the archives if it occurred out of state, which Miss Basil had alluded to when she answered the question about her parents. Eames would have to fill out a request form after all, just not for the state of New York.

“ _Damn! Well, this was a wasted trip. The only thing I haven’t looked at is her genealogical information. And I already know her parent’s names as well as her grandfather’s. I doubt there’s anything his files of interest besides perhaps custody papers when she came to live with him.”_

 _“But maybe,”_ a part of her replied, “ _those custody papers will state why she was sent placed into his custody and not the mother’s family.”_

A few keystrokes later, a flood of results filled the screen. Clearly, he had been a man of great-enterprise as there where more than a few references to him in the more routine documents such as blueprints, licenses, business, etc. Scrolling down to the early 90’s, Eames was surprised not to find court dates in that time period. Jotting down the few case numbers there were and the respective locations, the lieutenant headed back towards the sea of precisely stacked boxes.

The trouble of not knowing what you are looking for is that you have the tendency to fall down rabbit holes. Buried between piles of papers in the reading room, Eames had unearthed more about Roger Basil than she had expected. Back in 1975, he had had a really nasty divorce from his wife of 17 years. It seemed that Helen Basil, Roger’s ex-wife, had gotten full-custody of their only child. However, it wasn’t until the ex-Mrs. Basil attempted to move out of state, that things really got ugly. Page after page of court transcripts illustrated how Katherine Elizabeth’s grandfather had attacked his former spouse, calling her a drunk and unfit mother, this tactic had done little to sway the judge in the case and Helen had uprooted herself and her son and moved to the West Coast.

“ _As interesting as this might be,_ ” Eames told herself, “ _it has little bearing on Bobby’s current predicament. Move along._ ”

The next dozen or so documents were of little interest. While at first, she attempted to go in chronological order, Eames decided it might be more prudent to skip ahead and focus on the court proceedings from the 90’s.

It’s easy to lose track of time in a place where time doesn’t seem to exist and before she realized the hour, the desk sergeant was stepping into the room and informing the lieutenant that the archives were closing soon and that she’d need to wrap up anything she on which she was working.

Carefully shuffling the papers back into their respective boxes, dejected that she hadn’t found anything of substance, Eames sighed heavily.

“ _At least I tried_ ,” she thought, putting the last sheaf of papers into a box from the early 2000’s. There wasn’t much there besides a few business permits and a singular subpoena to testify in court. Taking note of the case number, Eames keyed in on the fact that the number was of the variety assigned to the juvenile division of the courts. Looking at the date, the lieutenant saw that it was from 2002. Katherine Elizabeth would’ve been 14 then.

“Fourteen,” Eames muttered softly, having a hard time coming to terms with the idea that the obstinate proprietor could’ve ever been a young teenage girl.

Either way, juvenile records were sealed and she’d need a court order to access them. Another challenge for another day. She needed to get going, especially if she wanted to get down to the institute and read to Bobby before it got too late. Finished packing the boxes, Eames grabbed the notes she had taken and headed out the door.

Coming down the hallway, she was surprised to see the familiar form of the former detective, Mike Logan, come around the corner.

“Mike!” she called, taking a few long strides to catch up with him.

He had turned at the sound of his name and a grin broke across his face when he saw who had said it. “Alex,” he greeted her warmly, “it’s been an age. How have you been?”

Shrugging her shoulders, Eames replied, “I’ve been worse. How have you been? I haven’t seen you since you left Major Case.”

“I’m good,” he replied. “Life’s been better since I decided that being a cop for over 25 years was long enough. It’s been nice to move on to other things. But every now and then I get nostalgic and help out some of my old buddies and do a bit of their digging for them. That’s why I’m here. You?”

“Same. Digging.”

“Aren’t you a lieutenant now? I would think you’d have half a dozen lackeys doing your grunt work for you.”

“I do but sometimes it’s just easier if I do it myself if you know what I mean.”

Logan nodded and rubbing the back of his head and looking away, he asked casually, “So… um.. how’s Goren doing?”

Pursing her lips, Eames was reluctant to talk of her old partner to anyone but Logan had been on Major Case with them, so decided to give a little. “You heard? I thought the department put the kibosh on anyone discussing the issue, internally and definitely externally.”

“Yeah, I mean, I wasn’t trying to poke my nose where it didn’t belong but when one of your former co-workers gets abducted and …” Logan trailed off not wanting to speak the awful word out loud. “People want to talk to you about it. Thinking that since I had known him personally, I might actually know what happened.”

“Honestly, I’m still a little unclear on how everything unfolded and I was right in the middle of it.”

“So… how is he?”

“Bobby is … um… well, he’s better than when they found him.”

“Hasn’t exactly snapped back to his old self, has he?”

“He hasn’t spoken a word to anyone in almost five months. So, no.”

“Fuck, that’s bad,” Logan responded in a sullen tone. Pausing a moment before saying, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not unless you can suddenly perform miracles,” Eames replied.

“What about coming to visit, cheer him up a bit,” the former detective suggested.

“Not yet,” she replied. “I don’t think he’s ready. I brought someone a few weeks ago and Bobby wouldn’t even acknowledge him. But when he is ready, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Please do,” Logan said, earnestly. “You’ve got my number?”

“Yep,” Eames answered.

“Then I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

“I guess you will.”

“Sounds good. Bye Alex.”

And with that farewell, Eames watched Logan turn and make his way out the door.

Taking a moment to regain her equilibrium, Eames breathed deeply and also made her way out of the building. Hopefully, she could at least garner a response from Bobby by telling him about her little run-in with the former detective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters in this Chapter:  
> [Alexandra  Eames](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510174)  
> [Mike Logan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/34696919)
> 
> Characters Mentioned:  
> [Katherine Elizabeth Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510687)  
> [Robert Goren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509454)  
> [Roger Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33513030)


	17. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another holiday has the Institute's director preoccupied. Will Bobby be able to keep his nose out of trouble?

The day was off to a rough start. It was one thing to not be allowed to attend the holiday festivities because he was still not considered _stable_ enough for such events. But to be told to stay in his room for the entire day was just slap in the face. Granted, he had snuck out of the Institute on his own while everyone had been distracted on Halloween. So maybe there was some reasoning. Still, he was wearing the damned ankle monitor. It’s not like he could up and leave like he did last time.

Feeling agitated, Goren paced back and forth in his room, casting sideways glances out his window and ignoring the slight soreness in his legs. He did not appreciate being subjected to these punishments like a child. Which was actually ironic because the childish part of him would still not let go.

The Daddies’ Bobby still clung around.

The boy prevented Goren from communicating, from reading, from being able to control his emotions, and from functioning like an adult. Case in point: the stuffed penguin. Bobby referred to Miss Alex as his lovey and was hard pressed to go a long time without her.

Frustration flared up inside him and Goren picked up the stuffed animal only to hurl her against the wall. The soft toy bounced off only to fall on the floor in front of the man standing in the doorway. A dark hand reached down and picked up Miss Alex.

“Robert,” Dr. Fray said, his tone bordering on reproachful, “everything alright?”

Replying with only a huff, Goren turned away from the director and faced the window.

“Is this about not being allowed to come downstairs?” Fray inquired. “Because if it is, I’ve brought something to make up for that.”

This caught the patient’s attention and he turned his head and eyed the other man.

Fray was still holding Miss Alex but, in addition, there was a rather large volume in his other hand.

“Or is there something else on your mind?” Fray asked, eyeing the penguin. “If so, I’d be more than happy to discuss it.”

With a roll of his eyes, Bobby walked over and took back his lovey and sat on the bed.

“Is Lieutenant Eames planning on stopping by today?”

Shaking his head no, Goren couldn’t help feeling a bit sad. Eames had stopped by a few days ago to let Bobby know she was thinking about going out of town with her family. She had asked him if he wanted her to stay but he hadn’t wished to keep her, knowing that he had already been too much of a burden already.

“Well in the meantime, this should keep you pre-occupied,” Fray said as he handed Goren the book.

Glancing down at the title, he was surprised to see a Latin title: _Ethica, Ordine Geometrico Demonstrata_. This was no Alice in Wonderland, by any means. This was a treatise on Ethics, not exactly what one would consider light reading. Definitely not something Barrett or Kipling would have given him.

“Though I’ve done my best to distance you from your experiences in Chicago and against my better judgment,” Fray noted, “I’ve decided to allow you a book in Latin. Seeing as you’ve already torn apart half the library without actually reading anything, I figured you were looking for something that made you feel less… conflicted?”

Tracing the binding with his fingertips, Bobby nodded solemnly.

“Be careful with that book, if you don’t mind. It belonged to Dr. Basil.” With this last remark, Fray turned and left the room.

Hours passed and Goren had completely lost himself in the words on the page. It was a completely new experience to read something so complex and philosophical in the language his Daddies had taught him. Many of the words were unfamiliar and the detective in him relished the chance to figure out the meaning based off of context clues.

“What are you reading?” a voice asked.

Quickly raising his head, a smile appeared across his face because he already knew who had come to see him. Miss Basil’s Latin was still really quite good, despite the fact that until he came along, she probably hadn’t used it in years.

Patting the mattress across from him, Goren indicated that she should have a seat.

“Where have you been?” he queried having not seen her since their conversation in the garden, his tone hushed so the attendant outside wouldn’t hear him.

“Bobby,” Katherine Elizabeth lamented, “you know that the director and I don’t exactly see eye to eye, right? The more invested I appear to be in your care, the more he pushes me away. It’s in both of our best interests that I don’t over-step my bounds.”

“But you’re the proprietor.”

“And Fray has been running this place for almost a decade. You think I can just swoop in and change things? I’d have a mutiny on my hands. Besides, it’s not like you’re the only patient in this place. My grandfather wouldn’t approve if I made decisions based off of the needs of a single resident.”

“Then why are you here?” The bitter tone seeping out of his words though he would’ve preferred to keep it from her.

“It’s Thanksgiving,” she shrugged. “Fray has better things to do than to keep tabs on me.”

“What about you? Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Like what?”

“A significant-other you prefer to spend your holiday with, perhaps?”

Katherine Elizabeth chuckled, “Trust me, boyfriends are more trouble than they are worth.”

“ _Boyfriends?_ ” Goren wondered to himself, reflecting on the type of adult toy he had seen in the bottom drawer of her dresser. “ _So she uses that thing on men?!”_

 _”Anal penetration can be quite enjoyable if done properly,”_ ~~~~Bobby decided to add, much to the detective’s chagrin. " _Or maybe she just uses it on herself._ "

He really didn’t relish thinking of his little sister in such a manner. It was frustrating how those types of inappropriate ideas would just sneak up on him and monopolize his thoughts. Though, as time passed, it was getting easier to push those intrusive thoughts to the side.

Changing the subject, Basil returned to her initial question about what he was reading.

“ _Ethica,”_ she said, pulling the book from him. “This is one of Grandfather’s books. Where did you get it?”

“Fray,” he whispered.

“ _Uunhh_ ,” she groused. “How hypocritical. Before Halloween, I hadn’t really considered the fact that you’d be able to speak Latin. When I brought it up to Fray, he insisted I was not to use Latin around you. Said that it would trigger flashbacks and cause you to regress and yet here he is giving you this.”

“Fray knows you speak Latin?”

“Of course he knows,” she explained. “My grandfather was a bit of an oddity when it came to his fascination with the dead language. It was only logical that he passed that fascination on to me.”

“So that’s why he decided to raise you because you knew Latin?”

A frown crossed her face and Bobby worried that he had upset her.

“That’s an extreme oversimplification of the issue,” she corrected.

“Then tell me why you are here. How did you escape?”

Hesitant at first, Katherine Elizabeth took a few moments before speaking.

“Grandfather told me how a former grad student, Andrew Viner, a child psychologist whom he had mentored, asked him to fly out to Chicago and help with a difficult case where a young subject could only speak Latin.”

“You mean you. You could only speak Latin.”

Ignoring his interruption, Basil continued, “Upon arriving, he interviewed the girl and noticed… some signs of …”

“Abuse?” Goren prompted but was only met with a glare.

“Anyway, grandfather whisked the child away with plans to meet up with his colleague once Viner had confronted the child’s abuser. They had planned on turning the child over to protective services but when Viner never showed up, Grandfather assumed the worst.

“He knew that if he went to child services, the girl would be taken away to a place where no one could communicate with her and likely not have access to the significant therapy that she would need. So he decided his best option to help her and keep her safe was to bring her home with him, give her a name, and tell everyone she was his late son’s daughter.”

“Name her?”

“Oh, that’s cute,” her voice tinged heavily with sarcasm, “you thought the Daddies cared enough to bother naming her?”

“ _Explains why she’s so particular about her name_ ,” he thought but was wise enough not to voice his opinion. Instead, he let the air hang heavy between them for a moment before he said, “He was right to fear the worse,” Bobby remarked. “They slit Viner’s throat after torturing him for hours.”

Startled, Katherine Elizabeth looked at him, her eyes big and round.

“They told you that?”

“One of the few things they did tell me.”

“And you believed them? Wait. Don’t answer that. I know you had a hard time distinguishing between when they were lying and telling the truth.”

“Are their lies why you refuse to look into the genetics?"

“No,” she muttered, hanging her head. “It’s just that, Bobby, if we are related, it means that the reason why they kidnapped you was your connection to me. I just don’t think I want to live with that sort of knowledge hanging over me.”

“You were just a child.”

“I wasn’t a child when they kidnapped you. If I had come forward and tried to find them and have them prosecuted, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Knowing the lengths they went to try and find you, revealing who you are would’ve landed you in that basement again.”

“I don’t know, Bobby. Maybe —“

Cut off by a knock at the doorway, both of them turned to look, as one of the aides walked into the room.

“Miss Basil,” the man said rather nervously. “Dr. Fray has requested your presence in the main hall. Apparently, one of the guests has gone missing, the Hutchensen’s little boy.”

" _So much for Fray not keeping tabs on her_ ," Goren thought to himself.

“What?” she questioned, getting to her feet.

“Dr. Fray was hoping you’d come to help look for him. I think they’re trying not to cause too much of a commotion with the other guests and upset any of the residents.”

“Of course,” Katherine Elizabeth remarked. “I’ll be right there. Though you should probably go with me if we want to find this boy quickly.”

“I would,” replied the aide glancing over at Goren, “but I’ve been assigned to—“

“Nonsense,” came the proprietor’s reply, “Robert is a grown man. He’s smart enough to stay put. Aren’t you Bobby?”

Making the sign for ‘yes’, Goren watched them go.

***

“ _Where do you think you’re going_?” Bobby hissed as Goren got up and walked to the doorway. “ _We are supposed to stay in our room.”_

Having spent years and years as a cop, there was no way he was going to stand idly by when there was a child missing.

“ _I’m not going anywhere,”_ the detective retorted to himself. “ _I’m just keeping an eye out for the kid.“_

Right now the last thing he wanted was to argue with his lesser counterpart. He really wished Bobby would just let go and let him go back to being the man he was before Barrett and Kipling came along. Why he could not shake that part of him, he did not know.

“ _Maybe you should talk to a therapist about that.”_

“ _Maybe I would if you’d let me talk to someone else other than —“_

Stopping in mid-thought, Goren cocked his head to the side as he heard an odd hollow noise.

“ _Goren_ ,” Bobby warned, “ _we can’t…_ ”

When the sound came again, there was no stopping him and he strode out of his room, pausing only momentarily to look and see if anyone was around. Dismissing Bobby’s complaints, the detective walked down the hallway up to the music room door, pausing just outside. Not wishing to startle whoever was in the room, Goren pushed the door open as slowly and quietly as possible and peeked through the gap.

There, on the floor, was a small boy in a green sweater, playing with the damper pedal of the baby grand piano.

Opening the door the rest of the way, Goren stepped into the room.

Noticing the movement, the little boy scampered further under the piano, clearly frightened.

Instead of pursuing the child, the detective crouched down, his calves twinging painfully, so he was at the same level as the boy. Once he had made eye-contact, Goren smiled kindly and gave a little wave. After a beat, the Hutchensen boy returned the gesture.

However, when Goren motioned for the little boy to come out from underneath, it was met with an apprehensive shake of the head.

“What’s your name?” the shy little boy asked.

The detective opened his mouth to answer but was swiftly silenced by the deep-seated anxiety by the now distressed Bobby. Instead, he lightly placed his fingers on his throat and shook his head, hoping he could convey that he was unable to speak.

“You not talk?”

With a nod, Goren confirmed the child’s question.

“Like Wall-E,” the boy concluded with a smile.

Not quite understanding the reference, the detective assumed it was a cartoon character of some sort and decided it was probably best just to go with the notion. Giving a small shrug, he nodded.

“I’m Mason,” piped the boy.

Pointing a finger at himself, Goren then signed the letters _B-O-B._

Raising his own little hand, Mason tried to imitate the gestures.

Sitting down on the floor made it easier for Goren to see the small boy and he once again motioned for him to come out. The boy was still trying to imitate the signs by pressing his thumb on his palm and then making a circle with his fingers.

Giving Mason a thumbs up, Goren couldn’t help but smile. It had been so long since he had interacted with a child that he had forgotten the sweetness and innocence of a young curious mind.

The small boy grinned when he saw the detective smile. Mason crawled out from under the piano and over to where Goren sat on the floor. Picking up the detective’s hand, the boy decided to compare it to his own.

Chuckling softly, Goren made his fingers walk across Mason’s arm and the boy giggled. Now that he had gotten the little boy to come out, hopefully, he would follow him downstairs to find Mason’s parents. Getting back on his feet was a bit of a challenge but he managed. Reaching out a hand, the detective hoped to entice the boy to take it but instead found the small figure just clinging to his legs.

“Mom?” Mason asked.

Nodding, Bobby thought, “ _Yes, buddy. We’ll get you back to your mother. But I’m going to need to let go of my legs first.”_

When Mason’s grip didn’t lessen, Goren sighed to himself and bent to lift the boy up.

“ _Be careful_ ,” Bobby admonished.

“ _It’s fine_ ,” Goren replied silently. “ _I’ve got him_.”

Mason’s arms were wrapped tightly around the detective’s neck and his head rested on the man’s chest. Cradling the little boy in one arm, Goren left the room. Staying close to the wall, just in case he might lose his balance, he made down the corridor towards the elevator.

***

Standing in the back hallway, close to the elevators, Everett stood with the Hutchensens, trying to reassure them that his staff would be able to locate their son swiftly. He’d even enlisted the help of the proprietor who had spent much of her childhood within these walls. Surely, she knew all good hiding places a young child might find.

“I don’t understand where he could have run off to,” Mr. Hutchensen fretted. “One moment we were visiting with my sister and the next he was gone.”

“These things happen. Children wander off,” Fray comforted. “Security would’ve stopped him if he had tried to go through any of the exit doors, so I’m sure he’s still in the build—“

“Mason!” Mrs. Hutchensen cried as she spotted Goren stepping off of the elevator with the boy in his arms. Rushing towards them, she extended her arms and the patient readily transferred the child into his mother’s embrace, the husband and the director approaching behind her.

“We were so worried,” she tearfully remarked, placing kisses on her son’s head. Looking up at the man, she asked, “Where did you find him?”

It came as no surprise that Goren didn’t give a verbal response but instead made a gesture by fluttering his finger across an invisible keyboard.

“‘Piano?” Fray inquired. “Robert, did you find Mason in the music room?”

Diverting his eyes, Goren nodded yes. Clearly, the patient knew perfectly well that he wasn’t supposed to be out of his room and acted in deference as to avoid being reprimanded.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Mason’s father remarked to the director, “but is this man a member of your staff?”

The husband’s tone caught Everett off guard as it seemingly implied that Goren was somehow a danger to the young boy.

“No,” Fray replied, “Mr. Goren is a resident here, much like your sister. But as a former police detective, I’m sure he couldn’t resist enlisting in the effort to find your son. Though, now that Mason here had been located, Robert would probably like to return to his room.”

“Can’t he stay?” Mrs. Hutchensen asked. “I thought the dinner was for all the residents and their families.”

“It is,” the director acknowledged, not wanting to disclose the fact that Goren was not deemed stable enough to interact with a large group of people, “but Robert is nonverbal and therefore is more comfortable in non-social situations.”

It was then that the proprietor appeared, emerging from the nearby stairwell.

“Oh good,” she pronounced, “you found him. Where was he?”

“The piano room,” answered Mr. Hutchensen. “One of the residents found him.”

“Let me guess,” Katherine Elizabeth said, coming up and placing her hand on Goren’s arm, “our in-house detective. He’s definitely a valuable resource.”

Then with a clap of her hands, Basil declared, “Now that young Mr. Hutchensen has decided to join us, it’s time to eat. Dr. Fray if you will do the honors alerting the staff, the rest of us will find our seats.”

“Certainly Miss Basil. But first shouldn’t Robert be—“

“Be seated next to me,” the proprietor interrupted. “You’re quite right Everett. Now if you’d please lead the way.”

Suppressing a grumble of vexation, Fray did as Katherine Elizabeth directed. He simply didn’t have the energy to argue with her and definitely not in front of guests.

Once everyone was seated, Everett gave the requisite Thanksgiving invocation and the meal began. Glancing over to where Goren and Basil were sitting, the director was displeased to see her with her phone out taking pictures of the food. No doubt she was tweeting something that included such nonsense as using the pound symbol in front of the words ‘Thanksgiving’ and ‘blessed.’

Oddly enough, he didn’t seem to be the only one annoyed as he watched Goren pull the phone out of her hands and turn it off. The patient nudged her plate towards her as he placed the phone in his pocket, indicating that she eat the food rather than take pictures of it. Katherine Elizabeth rolled her eyes but picked up her fork and skewered a piece of turkey.

Watching Robert put the young woman in her place, Everett contemplated. “ _Maybe letting him spend time with her isn’t such a bad idea after all.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters in this chapter:  
> [Robert Goren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509454)  
> [Everett Fray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510513)  
> [Katherine Elizabeth Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510687)  
> [](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33523539)  
> Characters Mentioned:  
> [Alexandra  Eames](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510174)  
> 


	18. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames' commanding officer finds out she has been using departmental resources to conduct her outside investigation. Katherine Elizabeth is preoccupied with a sort of investigation of her own.

Sitting outside of her commanding officer’s office, Eames rubbed her hands together nervously. She didn’t know why the chief had asked her to come to meet with him but she was betting it wasn’t a good thing.

It was the same nagging feeling of dread she always got every time she was summoned by one of her superiors. The fear that she had somehow made a mistake and that she was going to be reprimanded for one thing or another. Despite always being careful to follow the rules and work hard, this insecurity seemed to be one that she couldn’t shake.

The door opened and a clean-shaven man in a dark blue suit with gray hair stepped out momentarily and motioned Eames to come into his office.

“Chief Waters,” Alex greeted the man as she followed him into the room, doing her best to keep her voice steady and calm. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes,” replied Waters, his tone serious but not unkind. “Please, have a seat. It has come to my attention that you’ve been spending a little more time than usual down at the archives. But I haven’t seen any evidence in your reports indicating the need for archival research.”

“I can explain—“

Waters cut Eames off with a wave of his hand. Picking up a manila folder on his desk, he held it up for Eames to see. “I also received this today. Do you know what this is, Lieutenant?”

Alex gulped, she didn’t know exactly what the folder held. However, if it had to deal with what she had been researching in the archives, then it was likely Waters would know it didn’t have anything to do with any of the cases she was working.

Shaking her head ‘no’, Eames waited for the Chief to speak.

“This is an official request that you have made to unseal a juvenile court record. The premise for which you gave was rather vague. There are mentions of securing information to benefit the safety of an officer of the law but you do not mention which officer or why the information would be beneficial. You don’t even mention what led you to this particular court case in the first place. So, as you commanding officer, I think I have a right to know what you are up to?”

Unsure of what to say, Eames stalled, “Chief, I mean no disrespect but my team and I follow up on a variety of leads. Unfortunately, not every lead we follow on ends up as productive as we had hoped. Seeing as I only include substantiated evidence in my reports, the information I’ve found in the archives hasn’t met those standards. I apologize if that was unclear. However, if there is an issue with how I report on the investigations, then I’d be more than happy to rectify that discrepancy.”

“No, Alex,” came Waters’ stern reply, “I’m not talking about your reports. I’m talking about you using departmental resources to conduct an outside investigation.”

Feigning confusion, Eames asked, “What makes you believe it’s an outside investigation?”

“I know it’s an outside investigation because someone at the courthouse rubber-stamped your request without proper approval and the files in question showed up on my desk this morning. The subject of which has nothing to do with any of your past or current cases.”

Forgetting that she was in trouble, Eames was eager to know the particulars of the documents. “Did you read it? Who was involved in the incident? What were the charges?”

“Lieutenant,” Waters reprimanded, “I respect you too much to let you jeopardize your career over misuse of departmental resources. I know what you’re trying to do, but I’m telling you now, you need to stop.”

Defensively Eames asked, “What is it that you think I am doing?”

“Overstepping your bounds in a vain attempt to protect your former partner?” Waters answered.

“And wouldn’t you do that same thing, if you were in my shoes?”

Letting out a sigh, Waters rubbed his forehead before replying, “Did you ever meet Roger Basil?”

“No,” Eames responded, knowing that the only reason she had stumbled upon the juvie record was due to the fact that the founder of the Basil Institute had been subpoenaed to testify in the case. Of course, Waters was very much aware that Eames visited Bobby at the institute multiple times a week.

“I don’t have to remind you that 9/11 was a difficult time, not only for the department but for the entire city. Roger Basil organized and implemented a charity program focused on providing grief and trauma counseling to both the police and fire department and their families. He was a good man and the city will forever be in his debt.

“So when Katherine Basil stepped forward and offered Goren a residency,” the chief continued, “those of us who knew about it were not surprised. I supposed we figured that it made sense, that she was a chip off the old block.”

Feeling the need to explain her actions, Eames reasoned, “But you haven’t met his granddaughter, I have. I’m telling you that she gives me a bad feeling. Chief, I can’t let this go. I need to make sure he’s safe there. So if there’s something in that file about her, I need to know.”

“No, you don’t,” Waters returned, his tone matter-of-fact.

“Why?”

“Because you should’ve never been pursuing this in the first place. Because you have no legal right to see what is in that sealed court case,” her commanding officer explained. "You need to let this go.”

“I can’t,” Alex lamented.

The chief didn’t seem so confident in her response and replied, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Then maybe a few days on leave will change your mind.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“You heard me, Lieutenant. You’re on leave. I highly recommend that you take the time to reconsider your insistence putting your personal concerns before your professional duties.”

“Fine,” Eames snapped, standing up and heading towards the door. But before she left, she couldn’t help but ask, “So you’re saying the information in that file doesn’t concern Katherine Elizabeth Basil or anyone else involved in Goren’s care?”

“Not exactly.”

“Will you let me read the file?” Eames implored.

“No.”

“Can you at least tell me what's in it?”

“It’s a juvenile record, Alex. It was sealed for a reason.”

There was no way she was just going to leave without doing her best to find out what was in that file. Alex tried her best to persuade Waters, “Chief, I promise, just tell me and I’ll never bring it up again. I won’t do any more digging and I’ll go through all the proper channels if I conduct any more personal research.”

“I don’t think telling you would make the situation at hand any better,” the man stressed. “Roger Basil’s memory is held in high regard within the department and you would ruffle more than a few feathers if you were to imply in any way that his granddaughter had been involved in any sort illegal activity.”

“Please, I know you don’t know Goren but he’s been through so much already. I just want to make sure he’s safe. Does anything in that file make you believe that he might be at risk at the Basil Institute?”

Waters appeared to be deliberating for a minute before he spoke. “Hypothetically speaking, would I say that a rape victim was safe around a person who as a teenager had pled guilty to aggravated assault, attempted manslaughter, and sexual assault? No, most likely not. But that’s just a hypothetical. You don’t have any proof Lieutenant. And unless you do, I wouldn’t suggest making any big moves. Not just yet.”

***

As a rule, Katherine Elizabeth disliked purses. They inevitably got in the way of whatever she was trying to accomplish and tended to be the collecting place of random odds and ends such as used tissues, food wrappers, loose change, and other junk. Typically, all she needed was a couple of functioning pockets and she was good to go. But today was different as the purse slung across her torso bounced on her hip with every step she took.

The contents, of this particular shoulder bag, were making her nervous. And were it not for the cold December afternoon, her stride would’ve been more hesitant. As it was, the quicker she arrived at the Institute, the sooner she’d be out of the cold. However, once she had stepped through those doors, she would then have to carry through with her plan, despite her misgivings.

Wrapping her arms around herself to keep out the cold, Katherine Elizabeth thought about the DNA testing kit she had concealed within the dark brown leather bag imprinted with gold monograms. Bobby had mentioned genetics twice last month and she knew that she’d have to get an answer for him eventually. She supposed this was as good a time as any.

“ _Or I could just put it off indefinitely_ ,” she told herself.

Irritated by her own reluctance, Basil attempted to waylay her misgivings. She had already gotten the testing materials and carefully read the instructions. The buccal swabs she had used to gather cells from the inside of her cheek were carefully set aside on her kitchen counter. All she needed to do was to repeat the simple procedure with Bobby. Then she could send the samples off to the lab. Once she got the results back, the issue would be settled once and for all.

Truthfully, the idea that he could be her biological sibling was an intriguing one. Since Grandfather had past away, she never had anyone she could call family.

“Family,” she muttered as her heart skipped a beat. Was it really possible? She certainly felt excited by the potential. No one could replace Grandfather but it would be nice to have someone; someone who would care about her unconditionally, someone with whom she could share holidays and birthdays, someone she could talk to candidly, someone to go to for advice, someone who might actually love her.

That was the idea. Problem with that was that Robert Goren was not in a position to offer any of those things. In fact, his position is what made her uneasy to be around him in the first place, despite the odd inclination she felt that compelled her to seek out his company.

Since she was very young, she had found the concept of sexual violence quite titillating. A manifestation of her time with Barrett and Kipling, no doubt. Grandfather had done his best to curb her of this and the other behavioral irregularities she had acquired during her time with the Daddies. However, this particular intrigue had only escalated over the years and it wasn’t until she had gotten herself into trouble at school did Grandfather feel it necessary to address it head-on.

Shuddering, Basil attempted to shake the memory from her head, not wishing to dwell on that unfortunate turn of events. Things were different now then they had been back then. She had become very adept at controlling those impulses and was careful when she did satiate those urges.

Still, Bobby’s position as a rape victim gave her reason to pause. When she was in close proximity to him, she could almost sense the lingering violence that hung in the air around him. At times, she found it almost intoxicating and tantalizing. Was it prudent to spend time with him in the first place?

“ _Come now_ ,” she thought, “ _you know full well that what Bobby endured is much much different than the staged and imaginary brutality you enjoy_.”

Having been excruciatingly familiar with the men who had hurt him, it felt as though she had been stabbed in the gut when she considered the notion that he had been abducted because he was her brother. No, he was not in any position to offer any of the comforts a family member might give to another. But maybe she could perhaps offer those things to him.

Finally arriving at the large brick structure, Katherine Elizabeth pulled open the heavy glass door and made her way towards Fray’s office. That wasn’t her destination but it prevented security from calling him and informing the director of her arrival. Ducking down one corridor and slipping through both the front and rear doors of the service elevator, the proprietor came to the emergency staircase at the back of the building.

Pulling on the strap of her purse to reassure herself that it was still there and unbuttoning her coat, she made her way up the stairs. Counting every stair, she inwardly wished there would be twenty steps to every flight instead of 19 just so it would be an even number. Once she reached Bobby’s floor, she peeped through the door to see which attendant was on duty.

Oddly enough, there was no one to be seen and Katherine Elizabeth made her way down the hall to Bobby’s room. Poking her head into the room, she found it empty.

“ _Damn it_ ,” she thought. “ _Where is he_?”

It made sense now why there was no one on duty, all the residents must be elsewhere. Letting out a sigh of frustration, Basil decided to check the few common rooms before descending back down to the ground floor. With any luck, he’d still be upstairs and not down in the library or worse, the courtyard. She really didn’t fancy the idea of going back outside. If Goren was in a therapy session, she might as well go back home because there was no way Fray wouldn’t find out what she was up to if she stuck around for too long.

Tilting her head to the side, she listened for voices, music, or the sound of a television: anything to indicate the location of the other residents and, hopefully, Bobby.

As it turned out, locating him took less time than she thought.

Standing unnoticed in the doorway, Katherine Elizabeth watched as both residents and staff congregated in the recreation room around swaths of thick fabric while Christmas music played lightly in the background. Wondering what they were doing, she watched intently as the ends on the fleece, that had been pre-cut into narrow strips, were knotted at the base. She had been standing there for almost a full minute when Bobby suddenly looked up at spotted her.

Instinctively, the proprietor sidestepped out of sight, not wanting to cause a disturbance.

“Robert,” she heard one of the aides say, “where are you going?”

He must’ve indicated something because she didn’t hear a response but a moment later, he came through the doorway. Looking up at him, Katherine Elizabeth gave him a smile as she spoke softly, “Sorry, if I’m interrupting you. It looked like you were busy.”

Taking a few steps down the hallway towards a small sitting area, Goren replied in Latin, “Come. I don’t have long.”

Curious as ever, she asked, “So what’s everyone doing in there?”

“Tying blankets for the children’s hospital.”

“Ah, I see,” she remarked, following him. “Getting into the Christmas spirit by making presents for little kids?”

Shrugging his shoulders, the patient replied, “It is a nice feeling.”

Now seated with a leg tucked under her, Katherine Elizabeth pulled the small box with the gloves, cotton swabs, and envelope out of her purse. Pausing for a second she proffered, “You wanted me to look into the genetics. So if you don’t mind, I bought the kit for collecting a sample.”

Bobby reached over, took the gloves from her, and put them on before taking one of the swabs from the sterile packet.

Wanting to make sure he did it right, she began to say, “You just —“

“I know how to collect a sample,” Goren interrupted. “I am a cop after all.”

Furrowing her brows slightly at this statement, she wondered if he was really still was a cop. After everything that had happened to him, surely he was no longer considered part of the NYPD. She supposed she could ask him and get clarification but in the interest of time, she decided to let the matter slide.

“Are you nervous at all?” she asked as he placed the last of the swabs in collection envelope and handed it back to her.

“No,” he answered, standing up. “There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t want to know.”

“I’m nervous,” Katherine Elizabeth admitted.

“Don’t be,” Bobby replied, ruffling her hair ever so slightly before walking away.

Watching him walked back down the hall, the young woman remained seated, unsure of what to even think. It wasn’t until she realized her foot had fallen asleep, that Katherine Elizabeth decided it would be best if she left. On her way out of the building, she was so consumed with her own thoughts that she nearly ran into a shorter woman in a black pea-coat with an indentation on the label where a badge was normally clipped.

“Oh, hello Lieutenant Eames,” the proprietor greeted the woman with all the politeness she could muster. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” Eames practically grumbled, giving Katherine Elizabeth an icy glare before brushing past her.

Turning to watch the lieutenant make her way across the lobby, Basil called out to wish her a Merry Christmas. Eames did not turn around or even return the sentiment. Wondering what she had done to earn such a frosty reception from Bobby’s friend, Katherine Elizabeth checked to make sure her purse was secure and her coat buttoned before she strode out into the cold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, I can continue updating this story more frequently now that I completed one of my other WIPs.
> 
> As always, I deeply appreciate any comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions I receive. Thank you all :)
> 
> Characters in this chapter:  
> [Robert Goren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509454)  
> [Katherine Elizabeth Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510687)  
> [Alexandra  Eames](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510174)  
> Characters Mentioned:  
> [Roger Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33513030)  
> [Everett Fray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510513)  
> 


	19. Yuletide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of drama between Goren and the proprietor leaves him vulnerable to emotional distress and flashbacks.

Walking in a winter wonderland, what a joke. Christmas was less than a week away and it had yet to snow more than a few flurries here and there. However, it was cold enough that the staff didn’t let Goren stay out in the garden for long. Probably for the best since the cold made his bones ache.

Although being inside wasn’t terrible by any means, there was just something about being outdoors that made him feel like he was free. As grateful as he was for the security and comfort the Institute provided, he occasionally felt like he was stuck there.

_Better to be stuck in a mental hospital than that freaking basement._

Brooding over this, the detective slowly ate his breakfast. Mealtimes were another ordeal all to themselves due to the fact that eating too quickly gave him terrible stomach cramps and certain foods he simply could not keep down. He knew the staff worried about him not gaining enough weight back and would frequently give him high caloric concoctions they referred to as milkshakes. Unfortunately, the ‘milkshakes’ tasted nothing like ice cream and only reminded him of the type of liquid meals the Daddies had given him in those sippy-cups back in Chicago. Dumping the shakes as soon as the staff turned their backs, Goren didn’t care that he was being disobedient.

Staring blankly at the _Treatise in Ethics_ that lay in front of him, Goren had one of those odd inclinations come over him. It didn’t happen all the time but sometimes he could just sense whenKatherine Elizabeth was close-by. Not a believer in the metaphysical or the supernatural, the detective was sure that there was some reasonable explanation. He’d have to discuss it with the proprietor at a later point in time.

So when Katherine Elizabeth strode into the dining hall a few minutes later, he wasn’t surprised. He was surprised, however, that instead of walking over to greet him, she headed straight for Dr. Fray who was back in the corner discussing something with a few of the aides.

He couldn’t hear their conversation but it was short and ended with Fray handing Miss Basil a set of keys.

A smile played along her lips as she came over and sat down across from him.

“Good morning, Bobby,” she said in English. “Are you almost done with your breakfast? There’s something I want to show you.”

Taking one last bite of his now cold cinnamon oatmeal, he nodded ‘yes’ and pushed his tray back.

“Are you sure?” Katherine Elizabeth questioned. “It can wait until you are finished. I don’t want to rush you.”

Nodded ‘yes' once more, Bobby picked up his book and stood up from the table.

“Very well,” Basil sighed, as she reached over and grabbed a half-eaten piece of toast from his plate, took a bite and handed it back to him. “Let’s go.”

Following behind her, Goren wondered what Miss Basil had said to Fray. It was a little unusual for the proprietor and director to come to an agreement so quickly.

As the pair of them made their way down to the main floor and past the front desk and lobby, he wondered, “ _Are we going to Fray’s office_?”

But they passed the director’s office, turned the corner, and headed towards the smaller offices of the therapists, counselors, and nurses. Coming to the end of the hallway, Katherine Elizabeth stopped at the final door and pulled the keys from her pocket.

Wiggling a key into the lock, she explained, “I had to borrow Fray’s keys because I kinda misplaced my set back at home.”

Glancing around to make sure no one could hear him, Bobby replied, “Yeah, because your house is messy.”

Katherine Elizabeth teased him by sticking out her tongue as she swung the door open and usher Goren inside.

“You know,” she commented, this time using the same language as him, “you really need to start talking to other people. This whole sneaking around thing every time I want to talk to you is getting old quick.”

“Is that why you’ve brought me here?” He inquired, glancing around at the impressive but apparently unused office they had entered. “Did you get the test results? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“No,” Basil remarked as she pulled an oversized gray cardigan off the nearby coat rack and wrapped it around herself. “The lab is a bit backed up because of the holidays and won’t have the results until after the New Year.”

“Then what is it you wanted to show me?” Bobby asked as he watched her pull out the cushioned leather chair from the desk and fump down into the plush concavity.

Waving her hand in the direction of a bookcase, she answered, “I figured you were probably bored with the _Treatise_ so I convinced Fray that it would be a good idea to let you pick out something new.”

Stepping over to the shelves, Goren perused the titles, all of them Latin. The titles ranged from educational and biographical to children’s literature.

“ _Oh_ ,” he thought, “ _why didn’t I realize it sooner? This is Roger’s office. This is his personal library. And that sweater..._ ”

Looking over his shoulder at the young proprietor, Goren observed her close her eyes, bury her face in the knitted fibers, and inhale deeply.

“ _She misses him_ ,” Goren inwardly noted.

The pain of her loss was practically tangible. Returning his gaze to the books on the shelf, the detective gave Katherine Elizabeth a moment alone with her grandfather’s ghost.

_“What was that like? To be loved by someone who inspires so much devotion, even after death?”_

Placing the _Treatise_ alongside the other volumes, Bobby pulled down one and began flipping through the pages.

“Are you getting excited for Christmas?” Basil inquired nonchalantly.

A bit hesitant, he confided, “No, not really. I’m … um… trying my best to avoid certain memories.”

“Why?”

“I think you know why.”

Huffing slightly, the proprietor shrugged off the sweater, got up from her seat, and walked over. “Bobby, sometimes it feels like you’re trying to interrogate me. I don’t appreciate it. Now, just tell me why.”

“It’s just that… last Christmas was … extremely unpleasant.”

“Wait, what? How did you even know that it was Christmas?”

Katherine Elizabeth’s question caught him off guard and he wasn’t sure how to respond.

The level of emotion in her voice began to rise as she continued, “I wasn’t even aware of the concept of holidays before I came to New York with my grandfather. But you’re telling me that you got to have Christmas?”

“Yes,” Bobby tried to explain, “but—”

“Like with a tree and presents?” the proprietor interrupted, as she snagged the book he was holding out of his hand.

Attempting to calm her down, he entreated, “Katherine Elizabeth, please don’t be upset. It wasn’t like that.”

“I am not upset!” she snarled as she slammed the book back on the shelf. “I just didn’t realize you were allowed semblances of normalcy that I was never afforded.”

“But I—“

Clearly uninterested in hearing an explanation, Basil interrupted him once again saying, “It doesn’t matter. Now come on, I’ve got to return these keys to Doctor Fray and I’m sure you’ve got a therapy session to attend. Not that it will do you any good since you refuse to talk and incessantly waste the money I’m spending on payroll.”

Knowing it was of little use to argue with her, Goren bowed his head and shuffled out the door which Katherine Elizabeth locked behind them before briskly walking away, without so much as a parting farewell.

***

Sitting on his bed, holding his stuffed penguin in his lap, and watching the rain smatter against the window pane, Bobby was more anxious than usual. Deeply troubled by the last encounter he had with Miss Basil a few days prior, he hoped she’d forgive him for upsetting her. Additionally, the detective hadn’t expected the sheer amount of panic-inducing fear the impending holiday bring down upon him. The honest truth was that Goren was seriously worried about having another major setback that would leave him cowering in some corner.

“ _Just close your eyes and breathe_ ,” he told himself. “ _Listen to the rain and pretend it’s not going to be Christmas tomorrow_.”

Last winter, the snow had muffled the sounds of the world outside. But that had been Chicago, out in the Midwest, now he was here on Long Island on the East Coast. Hopefully, focusing on the differences between the regional climates would be enough to keep him preoccupied from thinking about the previous Christmas. The reason for that being last year was a fucking disaster of epic proportions.

In retrospect, Bobby’s first Christmas hadn’t been that bad. Getting raped by both of his Daddies while on his back with his legs pushed back hadn’t been as painful as other things they had forced him to experience. They had even given him that thick rubber mat which had served as his bed for the majority of his stay, except at the end when he had gotten it taken away for cutting his hand. A really practical and useful present in the long-run.

It was the second Christmas that sent shivers up and down his spine.

“ _Shhhhh_ ,” Goren tried to soothe himself, rocking back and forth, “ _don’t think about it, Bobby. Please don’t think about it_.”

He could almost hear the distinctive crinkle of the wrapping paper as he unwrapped his first present. While he was more preoccupied with the book he had been given, Kipling had thrown the excess paper into the fireplace where it had ignited with a whoosh and a burst of light and a slightly acrid smell of scorched paper filled the air in contrast to the earthy smell of the burning logs.

“ _Stop, oh God, Bobby, please stop_ ,” Goren pleaded with himself but by this point, his efforts were in vain as the rushing memories came pouring through to the present.

_Father leaned down and handed the boy his next gift, a long rectangular box. Thinking that it was possibly another present akin to the book he had just received, Bobby eagerly opened it. Beneath the paper was a case containing a long plastic cylindrical tube that tapered off at one end, with an opening that appeared to be for some type of plug, and at the other end, protruding from the base was an electrical power cable._

_In his life before the Daddies, he had never been naïve when it came to the different and more unusual aspects of sexuality and while his own tastes had always been more moderate he knew exactly what the object was: a violet wand._

_“Do you know what this is?” Father asked as he pulled the wand from the box._

_“A … a violet wand,” Bobby faltered, unsure of what answer his Daddies expected._

_“Oh!” Daddy exclaimed, “Did you hear that Love? The fucking whore already knows what it is! Tell us, Bobby, do you know what this toy is for?”_

_His lower lip trembling, the boy answered, “Electrical stimulation.”_

_“So very clever,” Daddy praised his son, crouching down next to him and leaning over to nibble on his ear._

_Father looked on with a smirk on his face before he reached back into the box and pulled out an attachment for the device. “And this?” he asked. “Do you know what this is?”_

_Bobby shook his head ‘no.’_

_“It’s a body contact probe,” Father explained. “What it does is turns the entire body of the person holding it into an electrode. Basically, you become an extension of the wand.”_

_Knowing full well that attachment was going to be inserted into him one way or another, Bobby began to cry. “Please, Father, I’m scared. Don’t use it on me.”_

_“What do you say, Babe?” Daddy asked his partner. “I hold him down while you plug it in?”_

_“Sounds like a plan to me,” Father remarked. “Hold on a second, though, I’ve got to get the lube. We don’t want him getting electrical burns. It is Christmas, after all.”_

_Once Father had returned, they removed the customary metal cuffs from his ankles and wrapped his hands and feet together with duct tape. Daddy had even placed one of the stick-on bows on top of the tape to make the event more festive. Then forcing Bobby to lay down on his back and they inserted the probe into to his anus, which had made the boy squeal in terror._

_Mentioning something about using the indirect method, Father plugged in the device and switched it on. The sensation was strange but not exactly painful, like slipping into a just-too-hot bath. His body felt as though all his nerves were vibrating slightly and his naked skin flushed warm with the stimulation. And despite the fear, he felt himself responding to the probe. It didn’t start getting rough until Daddy pulled some tinsel off the tree and dragged it along Bobby’s cock and balls. Coming in contact with the metallic filaments made the electrical current arch, causing his muscles to contract painfully._

_The initial discomfort wasn’t totally unbearable. However, Father increased the voltage on the device and as the pain settled deep inside Bobby’s core, he began to whimper. As the dial was gradually turned up, the sensations became sharp and acute and those whimpers turned to a high pitched keening sound that most likely only dogs and his Daddies could hear. The tinsel was swished and draped over his vulnerable skin, nipples, and genitals before being wrapped around his cock like a striped candy cane. He would’ve screamed if it weren’t for the fact that he knew he was supposed to stay quiet upstairs. Instead, he cried and cried as the Daddies used their new toy on him for what seemed like hours on end._

A knock at the doorway of his room drew him from his trance and Bobby looked over to see Eames walk into his room, her face showing clearly her concern. Reaching up to wipe the tears that had been streaming down his face, Goren tried to gather his emotions together but was unsuccessful as a sob wrenched itself from his throat.

“Oh, Bobby,” Eames lamented as she hurried over to sit next to him on the bed and pull him into her arms. “What’s the matter?”

“ _I hate them_ ,” Bobby cried wordlessly as he leaned into her embrace. “ _Oh Alex, I hate them so much_.”

“ _Shhhhh_ ,” the lieutenant comforted her former partner. “It’s okay. I’m here, Bobby. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I promise.”

Try as he might, Goren couldn’t stop the distraught part of him from gaining control. But somehow, Eames was able to connect with that side of him and steady the boy until he caught his breath.

“There we go,” she murmured as Bobby stopped crying and she rubbed his back. “Deep and slow breathes. That’s it.”

Picking up the penguin that had fallen to the floor, Eames pressed it into his arms as she helped him sit upright against the headboard.

“Hey,” she remarked as she leaned over to catch his gaze. “You’re not in trouble, you know that, right?”

“ _That’s my move_ ,” Goren thought but he couldn’t help but smile faintly at the familiar gesture.

“What upset you so much?” Eames inquired. “Can I ask you about it?”

Bobby merely shrugged, pulling the stuffed animal he had named after her closer to him and casting his gaze down at the patterned bedspread.

“Was it something that happened here?”

Shaking his head ‘no’, Bobby didn’t want Alex to think it had anything to do with the institute since he knew that she had reservations about his care here.

“Something that happened back in Chicago?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he nodded.

“A specific incident or just everything all together that overwhelmed you momentarily?”

“ _I can’t tell her._ _The Daddies would be mad.._.” his thoughts trailed off as he contemplated how glad he was to not have to endure another Christmas like his last one; how much he HATED the Daddies for what they had done; how much he HATED their rules; how much he HATED feeling helpless, scared, and unworthy of love or compassion.

Making up his mind, Bobby held up one finger, then two, paused, then held up two fingers, and finally five.

“One, two, two, five?” Eames questioned, unsure of his meaning.

It was like a demented game of charades. Repeating the gesture and putting more emphasis on the pause, he hoped she could understand.

“Twelve, twenty-five? Oh! December twenty-fifth!”

Nodding ‘yes’, he pulled back and couldn’t help the tremor of fear that ran through his body.

Seeing this, Alex leaned in and gently stroked his arm, saying, “Oh Bobby, did they twist it into something evil? I promise this Christmas isn’t going to be like the last. If you want, we can just pretend it’s just another day, no different from any other.”

This suggestion was met by Bobby responding emphatically by both nodding and raising his hand to make the knocking motion for yes.

“Let’s just read for a bit,” Eames stated as she moved from the mattress and got a chair so she could sit next to the head of the bed. Taking the book they had begun reading, she opened the volume and begun to turn the pages until she found the spot they had left off. It was a bit comical, that she had chosen this novel. Having graduated from the softer ideals of children’s literature, Eames had picked something a bit more classical. Leveling the book to her vantage point, Eames began to read aloud:

 

> “In glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend Sherlock Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange, but none commonplace…”

Reading until her voice began to fade, Eames finished the chapter and went to close the book but the boy stopped her, wanting her to continue.

“Just one more chapter?” Bobby asked quietly.

He wasn’t sure who was more surprised, Eames that he had spoken out loud or himself that he had used English.

“ _Bobby_ ,” Goren inquired from the sidelines, “ _did you just_ —“

“ _Don’t make a big deal of it_ ,” he told himself, thinking about how much he loved Eames; how the thought of her comforted him throughout his ordeal; how he wanted more than to just play the role of a helpless and silent victim; how he wanted their friendship back ; how much he wanted to spend quality time with her and banter back and forth like they used to do; how he didn’t want to be silent anymore.

Seemingly unfazed, Eames was doing a much better job of not making a ‘big deal of it’ than Goren and she responded, “Sure thing Bobby.”

Getting up off her chair, she scooted next to Bobby on the bed and turned the page to begin a new chapter.

With a happy sigh, the man snuggled up with his former partner and added, “Thanks, Al.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say how deeply I appreciate each and everyone of you that takes the time to read my nonsensical ramblings? 
> 
> I hope you guys are pleased that Goren is FINALLY talking to Eames again and I really really really would love to read your reactions to this chapter.


	20. DNA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lab results are back... at long last, we will finally know! Is Katherine Elizabeth our beloved Bobby's sister???

One of the other residents sat in the corner of the recreational therapy room, turning the handle of a broken jack-in-the-box. Over and over the music played as the pins on the revolving cylinder inside the toy plucked the tuned teeth of the metal comb.

_All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel…_

However, every time the _POP_ was to occur, nothing happened. The tune would pause for a brief moment and start again. Bobby didn’t know where the toy had come from but in a manner he felt like it represented how he felt before Christmas, going through the motions over and over again but nothing ever came of it.

Then suddenly, whether it was because of the confrontation he had had with Miss Basil or because he had the flashback and Eames was there to comfort him, his resolve had weakened and _POP_ , he came out of his shell. Not only had he spoken to someone whom Barrett and Kipling would most definitely not approve of, but he had also done so in English. And unlike the sprung puppet, he couldn’t go back in his box.

Eames, bless her heart, had acted calm and cool and let Goren take his time when it came to speaking. She hadn’t pushed him out of his comfort zone. Though she had informed the staff and while most of them were patient with him, it wasn’t true for everyone, especially his therapist. Marjorie Woods was a tough old bird and when she set her mind to something she was bound and determined to get it. Sessions with her had been rather intense of late. Woods had gone on and on about it was a new year and so he could take the opportunity to start anew and pressuring him to talk and interact more with the rest of the staff and residents.

In the weeks since Christmas, Bobby had managed to work himself up to speaking when spoken to by the staff and other residents, even if it was only in short sentences. And if it was someone new, he couldn’t seem to speak at all.

Shaking his head at himself, Goren tried to refocus on the novel in his hands and not the sounds and accompanying thoughts that emanated from the music box. Reading was becoming an easier task and he didn’t feel conflicted each time he picked up a book to read it. Deciding that it was too loud in the room to read, he got up from his seat by the window and walked over to the attendant and inquired, “Library?”

“You want to go to the library?” the aide asked in reply.

Nodding in the affirmative, Bobby was allowed to leave the room but was told recreation time would be over at the end of the hour and he was to be back by then.

Taking the elevator down to the main floor, he headed straight to the library and the comfy sitting area towards the back where he was sure to remain undisturbed. Sitting cross-legged on the couch, he studied the words on the page and let his mind drift into the fictional world.

So absorbed in his reading, he barely noticed when a figure sat down next to him on the couch. Looking over, he was rather ambivalent about seeing the proprietor. Pleased as he was that she was here, he was rather worried she was still angry with him.

“So I hear you’re talking now,” Katherine Elizabeth stated, her tone low and emotionless.

“A bit.”

“Good. It’s about time.”

Glancing around to see if anyone was taking notice of their interaction, Goren shifted to speaking in a language he felt more comfortable in but kept his voice down so as not to draw attention.

“I’m sorry about what I said when I saw you last. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Basil replied, “You really don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault. It’s just—.” She paused here as she found the right words to express herself. “It’s just that I had thought I put the misfortunes of my early childhood behind me. That they had been dealt with and those lingering wounds had finally healed. As it turns out, I was sorely mistaken.

“The truth is that ever since I saw Kipling and Barrett’s faces on the news and brought you here to the institute those old wounds have reopened, leaving me rather unstable. A bit temperamental, if you will. So if anything, I should be apologizing to you and not the other way around.”

Honestly, Goren was rather impressed by Katherine Elizabeth’s apology. Being as prideful as she was, it was very telling that she was willing to make amends.

“Thank you,” was all he replied, not knowing what else to say.

Sitting in silence for a few minutes, Basil eventually pulled out a well-handled and slightly crumpled envelope from her pocket and handed it to Goren.

“It’s been sitting on my counter for about a week now,” she explained. “I might’ve accidentally balled it up and thrown it across the room once or twice.”

“But you didn’t open it,” the detective observed as he smoothed the envelope between his fingers and turned it over.

“You’re the one who pushed for it. I figured you’d want to be the first to see the results.”

Carefully ripping along the seam of the envelope, Goren withdrew the contents and studied the findings carefully. Meanwhile, the proprietor had stood up and was anxiously pacing back and forth.

“Katherine Elizabeth,” he directed, “have a seat.”

Her nervous energy was not going to help her in this situation and he needed her to calm down before he told her the results.

“Do you know who my father is?” Goren asked her.

Shrugging her shoulders, she sat down in a chair across from him and recited, “William Goren, retired Army private first class, a bit of a gambler and womanizer. Divorced in 1972 and never remarried. Passed away in early 2000.”

Seeing that she had done her homework, he prodded, “Better than being the descendant of one of those kidnappers, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so,” she relented with a shrug.

“But how would you feel if your father was worse than that? Would you still want to know?”

“Worse than Lee Barrett?” she scoffed. “Bobby, you must be joking.”

Looking directly at her, Goren made sure there wasn’t even a hint of doubt in his voice when he stated, “I’m not joking, Katherine Elizabeth. Would you still want to know?”

Confusion written across her face, Basil asked, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he relented, knowing that it was better to just do it quickly than drag it out, like ripping off a band-aid, “is that in 1960, my mother had an extra-marital affair with a very bad man who went on to rape and murder dozens of women for decades until he was arrested and later executed by the state of Pennsylvania in 2007.”

“Bobby, I —“ seemingly at a loss for words, the proprietor sat dumbfounded. Rubbing her face in her hands, she took a few deep breaths. Quietly she asked, “What was his name?”

“Mark Ford Brady.”

For a brief moment, Katherine Elizabeth remained silent, her big blue eyes searching his before she settled on, “I’m sorry, Bobby. That must have been … a difficult experience.”

Glancing down at the paper in his hand, though not really looking at it, Goren took a needed minute to collect himself. He had thought himself prepared to tell the truth about his biological father. However, saying the words aloud reminded him of how horrible the truth was in actuality.

Steeling himself, he finally replied, “He was executed on the same day my mother passed away. He wrote a full confession and had it sent to my office as a birthday gift. He didn’t murder every woman he raped and it’s very possible that he got one of them pregnant.”

Picking up on his comments, Katherine Elizabeth inferred, “And then Barrett and Kipling could’ve easily abducted a vulnerable woman seeking medical help for an unwanted pregnancy resulting from a rape.”

Fully aware that the young woman was anything if not intelligent, Goren was a little surprised at how easily she came to the conclusion. And she had expressed herself so calmly, without a hint of the rage that had boiled over the last time she mentioned the Daddies. Apparently, she really had been meticulously contemplating her past experiences and emotions.

Standing from her seat, Basil got up and sat down next to Bobby, leaned her head against his shoulder, and pulled the papers from his hands. The chart had a column for each of the alleles tested and a column for each of the potential siblings. At the bottom of the chart was a statement of the results which read that with a 25 percent match there was a conclusive biological probability of a half-sibling relationship.

“Are you surprised?” Bobby asked reservedly.

“You’re not?” she questioned him back, with a hint of astonishment in her tone.

Shrugging he replied, “I told you before that I didn’t think they were lying. After all the experimentation, it was only logical that there be a biological connection.”

“And you couldn’t just let me think our father was an adulterous gambler?”

“I didn’t want to lie to you. And I know first-hand the misery of finding out the hard way. Besides,” he noted affectionately, “a smart girl like you would’ve figured it out eventually.”

A pained look crossed Basil’s face as she requested, “Please don’t call me that, especially not in Latin. The Daddies only referred to me as ‘girl’ and hearing that word used to describe me… well, let’s just say it’s unpleasant.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I should’ve known.”

“It’s okay. It’s not a big deal,” she remarked.

Bobby, however, got the feeling that was not entirely true. Though he did not get a chance to dwell on it before she moved back on topic.

“It’s just a lot to wrap my head around, you know?Though I suppose this Brady guy wasn’t much different from Barrett in the long run, both rapists, and murderers. At least this way I get a brother… I mean, that is … if you want a sister.”

Taking her hand in his own, Goren replied, “Nothing would make me happier.”

With a laugh, Katherine Elizabeth added a caveat, “You say that now. But I’m not always perfect. I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, some of those mistakes were pretty serious.”

Lifting his arm up and putting it around the young woman, Goren drew her in a tight embrace as he lowered his head and rested his cheek against her soft brown hair.

“Haven’t we all?” he replied.

Basil let out a heavy sigh as Goren felt the rigidity of her muscles relax as she let him hold her in his arms. Bobby would’ve liked the moment to never end but it ended too soon as his little sister gently pulled away.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Katherine Elizabeth replied as she glanced down once more at the papers. “Fray’s going to flip when I show him this.”

“No!”

Bobby knew his objection came out too fast, too loud, and too panicked when he saw the proprietor’s eyes go wide in surprise at his outburst. Somehow, he had managed to once again act in a manner reminisced of a jack-in-the-box.

“What?” she inquired, clearly confused. “Why not?”

There was so much for Goren to explain and he wasn’t sure how best to go about it. Truthfully, he knew she hadn’t had much time to consider the risks coming forward would entail. He, on the other hand, had had plenty of time to think in those two months since he had found out she was the girl from the photo.

“In all my time here, I’ve heard plenty of things about you,” he explained, having to hold up his hand to keep her from interrupting him. “But not once has anyone said anything about you being adopted. Whose name is on your birth certificate?”

“Grandfather’s son, Charles.”

“So Roger faked your birth certificate so he could gain custody of you, no questions asked?”

“Yes, but —“

Interrupting her, he didn’t want the discussion to be drowned by her getting defensive of her grandfather’s memory. He needed to elaborate on the topic so she would see his point.

“Katherine Elizabeth, your current way of life is predicated by fraud. Exposing that fraud by willfully admitting to a biological relationship with me could potentially strip you of everything Roger left you.”

“But in his will, he clearly —“

“It doesn’t matter,” he stated, cutting her feeble argument sort. “If someone found out, they could contest the legality of the document. At that point, all of Roger’s former assets, all of your assets, would be frozen until an investigation could be conducted and a decision made.”

“Bobby, I—“

Cutting off the proprietor once more, Goren explained, “And that’s just the first reason, I have two more.”

Rolling her eyes, Basil didn’t comment but gestured to him to continue.

“The second reason we shouldn’t tell anyone is that it will diminish the likelihood of Barrett and Kipling finding out. Do you have any idea what they would do to us if they found out?”

“They can’t do anything,” Katherine Elizabeth pointed out with fervor. “They are in prison.”

Sighing, Bobby asked, “Do you know for how long?”

“Um…” she paused, “20 years, I think.”

“Okay, kiddo,” Goren reasoned, not even noticing that he had momentarily slipped into cop-mode as he recalled his knowledge of criminal law, “let me explain. A sentence of 20 means they’ll be out in 15 with good behavior, even less if they didn’t give up the right to appeal their sentencing when they took the plea deal. I know 15 years sounds like a long time but it’s not. And, believe me, if they know you’re my sister, they will, without a doubt, come after you.”

Listening to him, Basil’s face clearly showed a look of horror at the mere idea of coming into contact with the Daddies.

It took a moment for her to regain her composure but once she did, she inquired, “And what’s your third reason, Bobby?”

This reason, well it was more personal and he was a little hesitant to share it.

“I…,” he started, “I had an older brother. His name was Frank and … well … he had his own demons to fight and I tried not to get involved. But that didn’t stop a woman from shoving him out a window and killing him. That woman happened to be a particularly nasty individual who Eames and I had pursued multiple times during our tenure at Major Case. He’s only dead because of his connection to me.”

“Oh… I see. I’m sorry for your loss. But Bobby, I hate to break it to you but I’m no damsel in distress. I can take care of myself. I don’t need your protection,” explained the young woman, seemingly resilient and contemplative.

A smirk briefly crossed his lips as Goren said, “No, you’re right. Besides, I’m not exactly in any position to offer you that. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep you from getting hurt. So let’s just agree not to tell anyone for right now.”

Pushing himself off of the couch, Bobby grabbed his book and took a few steps towards the exit.

“Where are you going?” Basil asked.

“Recreation hour is almost up and I have to get back upstairs. I don’t want to risk getting in trouble.”

“Okay, well, how about I come back and see you later.”

“I’d like that very much,” Bobby responded with a smile. “See you around Sis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my diligent readers. I love you all so very much!!!! Drop me a note if you'd like :)


	21. Consult

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite consulting psychiatrist returns for another visit.

Stepping over the threshold into the lobby of the Basil Institute, Doctor Emil Skoda was eager to see the state of his former colleague. He typically tried to keep a professional distance from cases on which he consulted. However, his curiosity got the better of him and he had called Alexandra Eames a few days prior and when she mentioned Goren had begun talking again, the psychiatrist couldn’t help but to want to see it for himself.

As he strode towards the front desk, the receptionist looked up with a friendly smile and instructed him to follow the hallway to the left down to Fray’s office where the director was expecting him. The door was open and the visiting psychiatrist knocked briefly at the entryway before stepping inside the room.

“Dr. Skoda,” Fray said warmly, “it’s a pleasure to see you again. Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you,” Skoda replied before sitting down. “I appreciate you allowing me to come on such short notice.”

The director dismissed this sentiment with a wave of his hand as he responded, “Don’t mention it. We’re always glad to have another professional, such as yourself, come in and do some consulting.”

“That’s very nice of you to say but the last time I was here was right after Goren had that meltdown and that didn’t seem to do any good. But from what I hear, he’s been doing much better since then. No more meltdowns or panic attacks?”

A derisive snort came from the director before he answered, “Not to the same extent as the incident that happened when the barber came but we’ve definitely had a few unpleasant incidents arise since them. Most notably when Goren escaped through a service door on Halloween. But we managed to find him and bring him back. It seemed to have been a real turning point for him though. He started walking and eating on his own after that. Lieutenant Eames told me that he seemed to have some sort of emotional breakdown when she came to see him on Christmas Eve but that’s also when he started talking again.”

“So now that he’s communicating verbally, I would assume he’s making more progress during his therapy sessions?”

“Progress? Yes, Goren is making some progress though it would seem he still holds back from fully investing himself in the process. When he does speak, he tends to be very concise. Rarely does he elaborate on any topic being discussed. The man had some pretty significant trust issues before Chicago and his experience there only made it worse, not that I blame him.”

“No,” replied Skoda, “you really can’t. Either way, I’d loved to talk with him for a bit if you don’t mind?”

“You’re more than welcome to,” Fray answered, “but you’ll want to keep your coat on. Goren’s outside in the garden. Seems to like it out there, despite the cold.”

***

The scattering of snow on the ground had all but melted on the pathway that wound around the courtyard and Skoda saw the tall slender figure moving slowly around before he pushed open the glass door and a burst of cold air hit him in the face.

“Goren,” the psychiatrist called as he waved his hand in greeting before making his way over to the patient. “I was just in the area and thought I’d drop by. Do you mind if I walk with you for a bit?”

Hearing his name called, Goren had stopped where he was at and waited for Skoda to come over.

Once there, Skoda observed, “You look like you’re doing much better than the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah,” Goren replied softly, as he looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I … uh…”

Clearly, the man was uncomfortable talking about the incident that had left him cowering in a corner on the floor with a blanket over his head. Just the same, it was nice to hear Goren’s voice again, though there was less confidence in his halted tone.

“No need to apologize,” the slightly older man noted as the pair began walking the path together. “That’s the nature of traumatic experiences, they haunt you long after they’re over.”

“Haunt?” Goren questioned slowly. “That word doesn’t do it justice.”

“But being here has made those flashbacks easier to deal with, at least to some extent. Hasn’t it?”

“I guess,” the patient replied with a shrug.

“From all accounts, the staff and Eames are very supportive. Have some of the other residents been giving you trouble?”

The tall man shook his head, dismissing the notion that his treatment was anything less than perfunctory.

“Still,” Skoda pushed, “I can see there’s something on your mind. I’d be more than happy to hear you out if you want to talk about it. Some concern you might have that you are not comfortable talking about with the staff here?”

“They make me feel,” the patient muttered, “less than sane. My other…”

“Your other, what?” The psychiatrist asked after Goren trailed off.

Taking a deep breath, the tall man hesitantly explained, “Chicago, what happened there, it split me in two.”

“So you feel like there are two parts to you where there used to only be one?” Skoda asked, extrapolating from the other’s statement.

Closing his eyes, Goren nodded in the affirmative.

“We talking multiple personality disorder?” Skoda humorously hypothesized.

“No,” Goren said with a chuckle, as the joke eased some of the tension in the air.

“Tell me about these parts then.”

Raising his index finger on his left hand, as if he were counting, the patient said, “There’s the old me, the detective.”

“And the other?”

A second finger joined the first but Goren was reluctant to explain the other part and his hand fell back to his side. The pair made another lap of the ground before the man finally broke his silence.

“The other is almost childlike, easily scared into submission.”

“Have you told anyone else about this?”

Once again, the man shook his head no.

“Ah, I see,” Skoda thought aloud. “You’re having a hard time trusting and connecting with others because they make you feel less than sane. It’s not an unexpected response but you should know that mental health professionals here are among the very best. I don’t think it would hurt you to try and confide in them a bit more.”

“Will you tell them?” Goren inquired.

“Not unless you want me to do so. Would that be easier for you?”

“Yes,” admitted the former detective.

“Can we go back to talking about these two parts of you? I assume that while you were in Chicago this childlike part of you took control while the detective side went into hibernation?”

“More like the detective part was brutally murdered.”

“Ouch,” the bespectacled psychiatrist empathized before continuing. “But now your detective side is back and at odds with this child?”

Nodding, the tall man replied, “Goren versus Bobby. Though it feels strange talking about myself in the third person.”

“Doesn’t seem so strange to me.I can see why it’s easier to take a step back and explain it from a different perspective. This dichotomy, is it fifty-fifty or does it fluctuate?”

“It fluctuates but lately I’ve been feeling more like my old self, whereas I felt more like a child when I first got here.”

“Does it fluctuate more when you are around certain people?”

The former detective shrugged his shoulder, apparently unsure how to respond.

“What about Lieutenant Eames? When you’re around her, does the detective side come out more?”

“Eames… with her, it’s an odd combination.”

“Is there anyone here that doesn’t make you feel that way?”

Pausing for a moment, Goren finally answered, “Katherine Elizabeth.”

“Katherine Elizabeth _Basil_?” Skoda questioned, surprised to hear the name.

Goren nodded silently.

“She owns this place, doesn’t she?”

“Mmm hmm,” the tall man mumbled in concurrence.

“I … uh … didn’t realize she was involved in patient care.”

“She’s not,” Goren explained, speaking more now than he had during their entire conversation. “She just stopped by one day. I think she was curious to meet me since the case had been on the news. And, I dunno, it’s like we just clicked. Almost as if we’re on the same radio frequency.”

Skoda had never met the proprietor personally but he knew the young woman had a bit of a reputation for being rather intense and eclectic in her behavior, unlike her grandfather from whom she had inherited the institute. She seemed to be an unlikely companion for the former detective. Wanting to know more about the type of relationship Goren and Basil had, the psychiatrist continued his line of questioning.

“Do you see her often?”

This question was answered with a shrug.

“You said she doesn’t make you feel like you’re fluctuating. How does she make you feel then?”

“Like I’m whole,” Goren replied, his voice ever so calm.

The statement stopped the older man in his tracks. Pulling his glasses off his face, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Going off of what Goren had said, the psychiatrist speculated that the patient had somehow managed to form a deep and personal relationship with a young woman whom he had only met a few short months prior. And apparently, she had become the only person he felt totally comfortable around. This notion left the psychiatrist perplexed.

“Just how pretty is this girl?” Skoda asked, the question slipping through his lips before he had the chance to think it through.

Goren scowled, clearly affronted by the question’s connotation.

“It’s not like that,” the tall man sternly admonished.

“I’m sorry,” the psychiatrist remarked. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

“But you did,” Goren interrupted.

Quickly trying to steer away from the misstep he had taken, Skoda backtracked, “But Eames, you really don’t feel whole around her?”

“No,” the bitter tone of Goren’s voice could not be disguised as he turned and began walking again. “Eames doesn’t see me as a friend anymore, just a victim she has to handle with kid-gloves.”

“You just told me that part of you feels childlike. Perhaps Eames is able to sense that in you and act accordingly?”

Sighing heavily, the patient responded, “I supposed but I don’t want to be that little boy anymore. I never did. I just … It was the only option I had for such a long time.”

“Did Barrett and Kipling force that role upon you?”

Upon hearing their names, Goren missed a step and crumpled to the ground. As Skoda reached to help him up, the former detective pulled away with a shudder.

“Oh!” the psychiatrist exclaimed softly, kneeling down and seeing the tears begin to well up in the corners of the patient’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Goren. I really am. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Pausing for a moment so the patient could regain some composure, Skoda continued, “I just wanted to know if this boy you became in that house had always been a part of you and what happened merely brought him to the forefront. We all have that vulnerable part inside of us. So maybe instead of trying to get rid of that part, you should embrace it.”

Sniffing quietly, the former detective replied, “That part of me wants to run for cover and never speak or listen to anyone ever again.”

“That self-preservation you’re feeling is instinctual. And considering what you’ve been through, it makes perfect sense. But, you’ve come so far in these past months, it’s clear to me that that childlike-side of you is finally coming around.”

“You really think so?”

“I do.”

***

“Here you go,” Fray said as he handed Skoda a hot cup of coffee before the two of them sat down at one of the empty tables in the mess hall. “You were out there for longer than I expected. My staff hasn’t gotten to him speak for such an extended period of time before, so clearly, your previous connection with him has made a difference. What did Goren have to say?”

Breathing in some of the steam that wafted off the dark liquid before taking a tentative sip, the visiting psychiatrist replied, “Quite a lot actually. You were right about those trust issues by the way.”

“Not much I can do about it,” Fray dismissed. “He had that issue before when he was a cop.”

“Yes,” Skoda conceded. “But was that location monitor I noticed around his ankle?”

“As a matter of fact,” the director replied, “it is. What about it?”

“I just think that forcing him to wear something like that proves to him you don’t trust him either. Maybe it should be removed.”

“I did mention he ran away, didn’t I?”

“You did but maybe it’s time to show a little confidence in Goren’s willingness to get better. How can he be expected to trust you and your staff, if you don’t trust him?”

“Is that what he said?”

“No,” Skoda explained. “He said, and I’m only telling you this because he said I could, was that pretty much everyone around him made feel him less than sane.”

“He is less than sane,” Fray noted before making a dismissive gesture when he saw his peer’s displeased facial expression. “But of course that is not our goal. I’ll talk to my staff and see if we can rectify the issue.”

“Clearly, there’s a communication issue going on because Goren told me something rather startling, something he hadn’t addressed with his counselors.”

“Really? And what was that?”

“That he feels like he’s been split into two competing parts: one part his old adult self, the other a scared little boy.”

“ _Umpft_ ,” Fray snorted. “The head of psychology back at Chicago Med noted that there might be an element of regression. I guess he was right.”

“Forced regression, most likely,” Skoda added. “Those bastards were undoubtedly cruel but precise in the measures they took, encouraging a dichotomy of the self before metaphorically annihilating the man he used to be. Goren doesn’t talk about them much, does he?”

“Not at all. He tends to shut down completely if they are mentioned.”

“So I noticed.”

“Is there anything else you two talked about?” Fray asked.

“Just a bit about Lieutenant Eames and …“

“Miss Basil?”

“Yeah. How’d you guess?”

Leaning in Fray lowered his tone as he confided, “He and Katherine Elizabeth have formed this somewhat inexplicable bond. Don’t ask me how or why but it seems to be mutually beneficial. Goren has been coming out of his shell more and more and he seems to have a settling effect on her. She’s not as much of a handful as she used to be.”

“Maybe it’s just having someone to interact with who isn’t part of his system of care. Has he had any visitors besides Lieutenant Eames?”

“Not as of yet,” Fray remarked. “But I’ll talk to Alex and see if she can ask a few of his old pals to stop by and pay him a visit.”


	22. Visitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Law & Order Universe characters mentioned in this chapter, so be sure to check the link to the the character index in the note at the bottom if you need assistance in knowing who is who --- or if you just want to check out the index since I worked really hard on it.
> 
> Also, you all can go ahead and thank [RoadrunnerGER](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoadrunnerGER/profile) for being the reason this chapter was so long.

The smile lines on his former captain’s face had only gotten deeper since the last time he had seen James Deakins. Initially, when the aide told him he had a visitor, Bobby had been puzzled as to who it could’ve been. Neither Eames or Basil would stop and wait for him to come to them. However, when he walked into the visitors’ room the sight of a tall man whose formerly blonde hair was now heavily streaked with gray, Goren knew the man immediately.

His first impulse was to embrace the man. But knowing his more vulnerable side would be opposed to coming into close proximity to another male, Goren only extended his hand in greeting.

“Captain,” he said warmly, using the man’s former title as the two of them sat down. “I didn’t know you were coming by today. How have you been? How are Angie and the girls?”

“I’m doing alright. Retirement isn’t as terrible as I thought it would be and Angie seems to like having me around. And the girls are doing well, they’re keeping us busy with grandkids.”

“That’s wonderful,” Goren replied, genuinely pleased to hear that Deakins’ life was taking a predictable but positive course. “How many grandkids do you have now?”

“Five. Four boys and a girl.”

“Wow. Only one girl, huh? Looks like the tide has turned in your favor, not outnumbered by women anymore.”

“Yeah,” Deakins laughed. “I guess you’re right. But how are you doing Bobby? I’ve been pestering Eames for months to let me come and see you.”

“Really? She didn’t mention that.”

Deakins must’ve caught the hint of anger in Goren’s voice because he was quick to come to the lieutenant’s defense.

“Eames only has the best of intentions, you know that Bobby. Besides, the two of you were always protective of each other when you were partners. And that certainly hasn’t changed.”

Huffing because he knew his former captain was right, Goren agreed, “Yeah, I know. Anyway, it’s probably for the best you didn’t come earlier. I wasn’t much one for conversation until recently.”

“That’s perfectly understandable, all things considered.”

A frown crossed Bobby’s face as he asked, “You know what happened then?”

Despite being fully aware of how fast gossip traveled within the department, Goren had hoped that the news of his abduction and the subsequent abuse that had followed hadn’t made the rounds. Though his former superior officer was no longer part of the NYPD, Deakins undoubtedly still had connections. So had Eames told him or did he find out from someone else?

“I know enough,” Deakins confirmed with a sigh. “But I didn’t come to talk to you about that. I’m here because I wanted to see how you are doing. How are you liking this place?”

“It’s a mental hospital, Cap,” answered Goren, a bit perplexed at the question. “It’s nice and all but it’s not exactly home.”

“No. I imagine it isn’t,” Deakins reasoned, as he purposefully glanced around the room at the expensive decor and furnishings. “Everything is so pristine here, it must feel like you’re a guest at a fancy hotel.”

“The common areas are kept up more than the rest of the building but I’m still sleeping on sheets with a higher thread count than I’ve ever slept on before in my entire life. Though I think all this luxury is rather wasted on me. I feel spoiled getting an actual bed to sleep on, let alone my own room.”

“A step up from Carmel Ridge then?”

Surprised that Deakins had remembered the name of that particular facility, Goren missed a beat as he recollected the accommodations in which he had placed his paranoid schizophrenic mother.

“Yes. The Institute is nicer than Carmel Ridge but that’s not to say that it was a bad place. I wouldn’t have put my mother anywhere that wasn’t adequate.”

“I never meant to imply that you would. You were a good son, Bobby. You went above and beyond what most people would do for their parents.”

“That’s kind of you to say but I still wish I could’ve done more. I tried to get her in here, you know? I wanted to bring her closer to home.”

“You did? But on a detective’s salary, that would’ve been near impossible.”

“It was impossible. That’s why I applied for the charitable endowment but I was denied. Ironic now that I’m a recipient of that same program. But what if she had gotten it? She would’ve come here and her lymphoma might’ve been caught sooner. She might’ve still been alive and noticed when I went missing. And then I would’ve never ended up in Chicago.”

“Those ‘what-ifs’ will drive you crazy. I know from personal experience that it’s best not to dwell on them.”

“I know. You’re right of course.”

“But your mother wasn’t your only family. I know your brother passed away as well but don’t you have aunts, uncles, and cousins?”

“No,” Bobby started but paused before the words ‘ _I have a sister_ ’ could fall from his lips. “I have some extended family in the mid-west but we lost contact years ago. And then there’s my brother’s son, Donny. But that kid has disappeared off the face of the earth and despite looking, I was never able to find him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Deakins remarked. “But you’ve still got your brothers in blue and Eames. And what about everyone you’ve met here at the institute? Surely you’ve made a friend or two. I’m pretty sure Alex mentioned something about a certain young woman that you’ve managed to bring under your spell.”

“ _Ha_ ,” laughed Goren. “Eames told you about Katherine Elizabeth, did she?”

“Just in passing,” the former captain remarked. “I got the feeling Eames didn’t much care for her but she didn’t go into details.”

“That’s just Eames being protective. Katherine Elizabeth isn’t exactly what you’d expect her to be given the fact that she’s a young socialite who somewhat haphazardly inherited all of her grandfather’s assets when he died, including this institute.”

“Then how did you manage to become friends with her?”

Shrugging, Goren replied, “It’s odd, really. The only way I can explain it is as if we are tuned into the same radio frequency.”

“The same frequency as you? Are you serious? Oh, this girl must be something else then. Little wonder Eames doesn’t like her. She didn’t like you went I first assigned the two of you together either.”

“I’m an acquired taste,” Bobby chuckled.

“That may be true,” Deakins responded thoughtfully. “Though I must say that getting to know you has been well worth it. You are truly one of a kind and you bring a richness to the lives of everyone around you.”

His face crinkling up with emotion, Goren said, “If you keep that up, you’re going to make me cry.”

“I’ve shed a few tears in my day,” the former captain returned. “More than a few on your account, believe it or not. Some of those were even back when you were the junior detective just starting out at Major Case. It means a lot to me, to be able to come here and talk to you.”

Wiping a stray tear from his face, Bobby stood up and Deakins actions mirrored the detective’s.

“I’m going to go now,” Goren said determinedly, knowing that if he stayed a minute longer, the man’s kind words would leave him feeling overwhelmed. He didn’t want to end up sobbing in Deakins’ arms. “Thank you for stopping by.”

“It was good to see you,” Deakins replied, not appearing to be perturbed by Bobby’s sudden wish to depart. “Would it be alright if I came and visited you again?”

“I’d liked that,” Goren imparted before stalking out of the room.

***

If it wasn’t a fight, Bobby wasn’t sure what else to call it. Either way, when Eames stopped by later that night, he had a few things to say to her. In the semi-privacy of his room, he sat his former partner down on his perfectly made bed and lectured her while he paced the floor.

“You have to tell me these things,” he emphasized. “It’s not like I wasn’t pleased to see Deakins but it might’ve been nice to know the man wanted to come and see me.”

Eames was quick to explain, “I know, Bobby, but you weren’t talking and I didn’t want to put undue pressure on you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Goren swore, breaking one of the institute’s rules about using vulgar language, “Eames, I am _not_ a child. You can tell me things.”

“Bobby, I’m sorry. Okay? I did the best I could.”

Trying to say calm and listen to his former partner’s words before he replied. Goren then made an effort to describe his dissatisfaction.

“I know. It’s just I’m so frustrated. I _really_ don’t like being the last one to know what’s going on.”

Seemingly convinced by his argument, Eames relented, “Listen. You have every right to feel that way. I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”

“No, Eames,” Goren sighed. “It’s not your fault. I just feel like I’ve been kept in the dark.”

“Kept in the dark? In what way?”

“Well, for one thing: I’ve no idea what happened those last few weeks in Chicago.”

“What do you mean?” Eames responded, this time there was a bit of bitter confusion in her tone. “You were there. What else do you need to know?”

“Everything, Eames, I want to know everything,” he explained. “So much of what happened is jumbled up in my head that I just want to see it in black and white. I want... I want to read the police reports. I want to see my intake documents. I want to look through my medical records.”

“Bobby, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You’re still a bit…"

“A bit, what?” he questioned, his hackles rising. “You can say it, I’m still a bit unstable. Well, I’ve always been that way and I’m certainly not going to change now. So can you get me those files or not?”

“Yeah, I can get them for you,” the lieutenant replied.

He knew that his harsh remarks had probably left her feeling back up into a corner but it was hard to control the anger that swept through him at times.

“Thanks,” Goren responded, so curtly he instantly regretted it.

Apparently exasperated by his antics, Eames stood up to leave.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“Home,” she quipped. “I think you’ve made your point. I’ll keep in mind not to come on days you’ve had visitors, seeing that more than one in a day seems to be more than you can handle.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and cannot handle, Alex,” Bobby sniped, his temper now flaring again.

“Oh?” Eames questioned. “Is that so?”

“Yep.”

“Good, then I’ll tell Logan he can stop by and see you.”

“Great.”

“And Carver.”

“Perfect.”

“Wheeler?”

“Sure.”

“Why not Bishop as well? I know how much you loved her.”

Finally breaking, Bobby yelled, “Will you just stop?”

Scrunching his hands in his hair, he leaned up against the wall, suddenly needing the support.

“Bobby?” Eames asked, her voice soft and gentle again. “Jeez, I’m sorry.”

“No,” he muttered, lowering his arms and tucking them around himself. “It’s okay. I just need a minute.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

Shaking his head no, Bobby slumped to the floor.

Moving from the bed, Eames sat down next to him and placed her arms around him. Rocking him gently she said, “It’s alright Bobby. It’s going to be alright.”

The two former partners stayed there on the floor until Goren had gotten his emotions back under control. As each minute ticked by, he could feel the angry ebbing away until he could finally think straight once more.

“Logan,” Goren said softly, a little out of the blue. “You can tell Logan it’s okay to come by.”

“None of the others?” Eames asked, the deep concern in her voice as clear as day.

“No. Just Logan.”

***

It’s strange how something that was once broken can function properly given the right set of circumstances. So despite the fact that not only one but both his legs had been severely fractured less than a year ago, Bobby was now moving around on his own for little over a month now and without the assistance of walking-aide. An occasional twinge would momentarily impede his movement but other than that, he had no complaints on the matter. Taking the opportunity after his group therapy session, Goren decided to go down to the ground floor and take a stroll in the garden.

Normally, he’d use the elevator but for some reason, he instead chose to walk along one of the promenades that overlooked the atrium and use the stairs to descend directly into the lobby. With one hand on the banister and the other holding his coat, Bobby watched his feet as to prevent a misstep but looked up briefly when he reached the landing halfway down. In that moment, his gaze was drawn to a figure that approached the front doors. Its familiar shape made him pause and a second later a small smile played across his features upon recognizing Mike Logan.

Crossing over to the reception desk, Goren intercepted his former colleague.

“Logan,” he called in greeting, hoping the tone of his voice conveyed his pleasure at seeing the man but didn’t give away any of the trepidation he felt. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you today.”

The broad grin that had appeared on Logan’s face upon hearing his name faltered a bit as Goren drew near.

“Didn’t Eames tell you I was coming?” he replied with a bit of caution.

“We discussed it a few days ago,” Goren explained. “But a timeline wasn’t mentioned.”

“You’re alright seeing me though, aren’t you?” Logan inquired.

“No, it’s fine,” Bobby fumbled. “I mean, yes. I’m glad to see you. It’s been a long time.”

Taking note of that the man with the prominent brows and severe widow’s peak was still sporting his signature leather coat, a sense of familiarity came over Goren and he was able to relax a bit. It appeared that Logan was still the man he knew him to be.

Suddenly feeling the need to show a bit of hospitality, Goren postulated, “There’s usually some coffee in the cafeteria. If you’d like some, then we can make our way over that direction.”

“Alright,” Logan agreed as he lifted his arm to give his former colleague a friendly pat on the shoulder, “lead the way.”

Reflexively, Bobby flinched away from the unexpected contact. Though he had hoped it would go unnoticed, he could tell Logan had picked up on his reaction.

“ _Damn_ ,” Goren thought, “ _He always was a great detective with a golden gut._ ”

To his credit, Logan did not come across as offended instead he muttered, “Sorry.”

Seeing the look of chagrin that showed upon the other man’s features, Bobby assured him, “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to … It’s just..”

“I startled you,” Logan noted, finishing Bobby’s sentence.

“Yeah,” Bobby sheepishly replied.

“Don’t worry about it,” the retired detective remarked as the two of them began to meander down the hall. “I know how you feel.”

Unsure of what the other man was referencing with the last comment, Goren let the matter slide.

“So this coffee,” Logan asked, “is it better than the swill we used to drink at Major Case?”

“Um… I assume so. I typically try and stay away from drinking too much caffeine these days but occasionally I’ll have a cup of decaf.”

A soft but barking laugh erupted from Logan’s throat as he said, “You know what they say about drinking decaf? It’s like hiring a hooker just to sit around and talk.”

“Cheaper than talking to a therapist,” Goren replied with a lopsided grin, fully aware of the irony in his remark.

As the two men turned the corner to enter the mess hall, a bright yellow triangle placard on the floor indicated it was wet as they could clearly see the room was being mopped by a janitor. The hard chemical notes of the cleaning products stirred memories of how he was forced to clean his Daddies’ home and Bobby quickly turned away from the doorway.

“Looks like we’re out of luck,” Logan said. “Anything else around?”

“Nothing I would recommend,” Bobby replied. “Most of the residents here have special dietary requirements since many psychiatric medications tend to lead to weight gain, so options are limited.”

“What about some take-out? We could order in?”

Memories of pagoda pails of fried Chinese food or boxes of New York’s finest thin crust pizza made Goren’s mouth water but this too he had to dismiss.

“I wish but outside food is strictly prohibited. Everything has to be pre-approved because of something to do with food allergies and cross-contaminating in common areas.”

“Okay,” Logan mused, “why don’t we just go out for a bit then?”

A deep frown crossed Bobby’s features. The idea of leaving the institute was slightly terrifying but at the same time deeply alluring. He just knew that there was absolutely no way of it occurring. The staff wouldn’t allow it and it was quite possible that he’d be unable to retain his composure during an outing.

"I can't," Goren sighed, feeling the more vulnerable part of him creep to the forefront.

“You’re not allowed to leave, I take it,” the retired detective surmised.

Instead of answering, Bobby gently tugged at the leg of his pants and exposed his ankle and the monitor attached around it for just a brief second.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Logan fumed and Bobby could hear the anger in his voice.

Just at that precise moment, who happened to come down the hall but the institute director, himself.

A cordial smile graced Fray’s face when he saw the pair of former detectives but he did not greet them as it was clear to Bobby that the man was preoccupied with an unrelated errand. However, as he made to pass them, Logan caught the doctor’s attention.

“Hey,” the retired detective called, “you work here?”

Bobby could’ve died of secondhand embarrassment due to Logan’s lack of manners.

“Mike,” Goren reprimanded, “this is Doctor Fray. He’s the Institute’s director.”

“Perfect,” Logan responded, his tone unchanged. “Cause I want to know whose idea it was to put my friend in an ankle monitor like some truant teenager.”

Brushing off the impertinence of Logan’s question, Fray replied, “Listen, Mike, may I call you Mike? I am not permitted to discuss patient care without following the proper protocol. But rest assured that everything we do here is in the best interests of our patients. If Robert here wants to discuss specifics, that’s his decision, not mine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

Standing in the director’s way in a clear alpha male show of dominance, Logan pressed the issue.

“It’s not right that you keep him trapped in here like an animal in a cage.”

“This is not a prison, merely a secured building for the safety of our residents,” Fray explained.

Knowing the director wasn’t interested in having a debate, Goren tried to intervene despite the fact that having someone act so adamantly in his defense left him more than a bit astonished.

“It’s not a big deal,” Bobby interjected.

Still, Logan ignored him and prodded, “If it’s not a prison, then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I took my friend here out for a bite.”

This suggestion clearly caught Fray off guard as he gave the man a once over. Then, surprisingly enough, he responded, “If you’re willing to take responsibility for his well-being, then it’s not a problem. What do you say, Robert? Do you think you can handle leaving the Institute for an hour or two?”

“I ... um,” the detective stuttered, “sure, I guess.”

The director pushed for a more decisive answer, “You guess or are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Goren stated. “I want to go.”

Of course, the honest truth was that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle a field trip. However, considering he had been able to make it for hours on his own on Halloween, Goren was optimistic. His last visit with Dr. Skoda had resulted in him being more accepting of the limitations the boy put on him. By respecting his own boundaries, he’d been able to gradually push them to the point that he was functioning at an almost self-sufficient level. The only thing he really had to watch out for was anything that might induce a flashback or panic attack.

“Then it’s settled. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me,” Fray said in parting as he pushed past Logan.

Fray had only gone a few steps before he turned to add, “Be sure to check out at the front desk and to be back by curfew.”

Logan might’ve been feeling victorious but Goren was now in uncharted waters. He’d never left the institute before, at least not with permission.

“You’ve got your coat already,” Logan mentioned as he indicated the garment that Goren had forgotten was slung over his arm. “Let’s blow this joint.”

“You know,” Goren remarked, “for a retired cop, you sure do have an odd way of saying things.”

***

Signing his old colleague out of the institute had been a short process but easy enough, though Logan seemed to have taken the receptionist by surprise when he had told the young man behind the counter that it was Doctor Fray who had approved the field trip. After verifying that the monitor Goren was wearing wouldn’t set off any alarms once they left, signing half-a-dozen documents, having a copy taken of his ID, and leaving his phone number, Logan and Bobby were ready to go.

Goren hadn’t said much while this was going on and Mike got the feeling that the former detective hadn’t expected Fray to give permission to leave in a million years. Pushing through the glass doors, he held them open for his friend. Tentatively, Goren stepped through and took a few steps along the sidewalk before he paused and looked up at the blue and almost cloudless sky.

A deep sigh escaped the man’s lungs.

Wondering aloud, Logan asked, “Long time?”

“Yeah,” Bobby confirmed. “I haven’t been outside those walls since Halloween.”

“Did you go trick or treating?” Mike snickered.

“Something like that,” muttered Bobby.

“You going to tell me about it?”

“Nope.”

“Alright,” Logan shrugged, not wishing to upset his friend by inquiring further. “Then which direction you want to go?”

Just for a moment, Goren hovered undecided before he turned left while noting, “If we go South East we’ll hit Prospect Park.”

Smiling to himself, Logan fell into step beside Bobby.

“Eames hasn’t taken you out before?” the retired detective asked.

“I don’t even think the thought had crossed her mind,” Goren responded. “She’s been a bit more preoccupied with other aspects of my recovery. Not to mention, the task force keeps her busy.”

Thinking of how much of a pain in the ass that job would be, Logan nodded thoughtfully.

“So what about you?” Bobby questioned. “How’s retirement going?”

“You know, it was nice for a while,” Mike responded. “But old habits die hard and I found myself making excuses to help out some of my old buddies who are still on the force.”

“So that’s how you ended up running into Eames in the Archives?”

“Yeah. Funny you should mention it though. Running into people at the Archives is what landed me my current vocation.”

This seemed to peek Goren’s interest as the two of them entered the park. There was a decent amount of foot traffic for a late January afternoon and Bobby would occasionally step behind him to avoid brushing past other pedestrians.

“Who else have you run into down there?” Goren inquired.

“Do you know John Munch by chance?”

“Um…,” Goren deliberated, “name sounds familiar but it’s not ringing a bell.”

“He’s currently with the DA’s office now, special investigator. But prior to that, he was homicide out in Baltimore before moving and doing a long stint over at Manhattan SVU.”

“Odafin Tutuola,” Bobby recalled with a snap of his fingers. “Munch was his partner after Tutuola got transferred from Narcotics.”

“Tutu-who?” Logan asked, tongue-tied by the unusual name.

“Tutuola,” Goren explained. “But most of the guys just called him Fin. We were both assigned to Brooklyn Narcotics in the 90’s. Not that our paths crossed much since he primarily did undercover work.I transferred to Major Case a couple of months before he left for SVU.”

“As luck would have it,” Mike added, “my old captain, Don Cragen, over at the two seven ended up being re-assigned to that same division. He was Munch’s and your buddy’s commanding officer. What are the odds?”

“It’s a small world, I guess.”

“Anyway, I ran into Munch at the archives and we were swapping stories about Cragen when it came up that there was a vacancy at the DA’s office doing investigations for their cold case files.”

“So you got the job?”

“I got the job. It’s only part-time though.”

“Well, it would have to be,” Goren remarked knowingly. “Otherwise you could get busted for double-dipping. Eames’ old man got caught collecting a pension and working for the city and they made him pay it back.”

“Ouch,” Logan lamented. “Johnny Eames, right? Great cop.”

“He seemed to think you were pretty great. Told Alex you were a hero for punching that city councilman.”

“That punch earned me ten years of exile,” Mike started as he recounted some of his more memorable Staten Island moments.

Though doing most of the talking, the retired detective kept a careful eye on the man charged to his care as they walked. At least now he wasn’t as wary of his former colleague’s mental stability as he had been when had first walked through those institute doors. Mindful not to touch Bobby as he sidestepped the icy puddles, Logan began to lead the two of them back towards the main thoroughfare.

“You hungry?” Logan asked as they made it out to the road.

“I could eat,” Goren answered as he glanced up and down the street lined with trees as well as several bars and restaurants. “But I don’t have two pennies to rub together at the moment.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s my treat.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. You in the mood for anything special?”

“I’m partial to Italian.”

At this, Logan couldn’t help but laugh. _Who wasn’t partial to Italian?_

“Italian it is then,” Mike decreed. “And seeing as these are your old stomping grounds, I’m guessing you know just the place.”

Bobby’s eyes practically sparked as he suggested, “Sal’s is just up the street and they’ve got a veal parmesan that will knock your socks off.”

“Then what are we waiting for,” Logan replied as he gestured for Goren to lead the way.

Within minutes they reached the restaurant and the retired detective couldn’t help but shake his head as he watched Bobby slow his steps and sniff the scents that were drifting from the building.

“ _Good ol’ Goren,_ ” Mike thought, “ _always has to smell everything; whether it’s food, evidence, or a dead vic’s fingers_.”

“Come on,” he beckoned, holding the door wide. “It smells better inside. Let’s go before I start drooling.”

“I’m coming,” Bobby remarked as he stepped inside but once through the entry-way, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Moving quickly to his side, Logan asked, “You good?”

“Mmm hmm,” murmured his companion.

A host led them to a booth in the corner and placed menus in front of them. Mike was just glad it was early enough that there wasn’t a crowd and they had a bit of space to themselves.

“You okay?” he couldn’t help but inquire again.

This time Bobby responded, “Yes, I’m fine. Just I forgot how many memories I had of this place. They all kind of hit me at once.”

“But you’re good?”

“Yeah, Mike, I’m good.”

“What’ll it be?” asked the server who had suddenly appeared.

“Um,” replied Logan as he picked up the menu off the plastic red and white checkered tablecloth. “Can we just start out with a couple of waters?”

“Sure thing,” the waitress commented before scooting off.

Looking over at his companion’s far too thin frame, Mike made a point to say, “I’ll get you whatever you want. I know you said your meds make you gain weight but in my opinion, you could stand to gain a few pounds.”

“I’m going to have a hard time eating a whole veal parmesan, let alone anything else. Besides, I’m not on any meds,” Goren replied casually as he looked over the menu. “I’ve developed some sort of drug intolerance.”

“I take it that’s not a good thing.”

“Not if you think vomiting, rashes, and spiking a high fever are good things.”

“Damn that sucks,” Mike reasoned. “At least let me buy a drink then. Lord knows I’m going to get one.”

“Alcohol is technically a drug as well so I’m going to have to pass.”

“You’re a better man than me. I don’t think I could manage.”

Raising his eyes up, Goren looked at Logan and stated, “Can we talk about something else please?”

Once again, their waitress appeared with carrying two full glasses of ice water.

“You two ready to order?”

“Yeah,” Logan answered. “Two orders of veal parmesan and a beer please.”

“We’ve got the regular selections if you want something bottled or a local draft beer on tap.”

“He’ll have whatever’s on tap,” Goren butted in as he picked up the menus and handed them to the server. “And I’ll just stick with water.”

After the waitress walked away, Logan leaned forward and asked, “You’ve got something against Budweiser?”

“Seriously, Mike, you don’t want to know.”

Despite Goren’s admonition, Logan still found himself wondering why his friend didn’t want him to get a beer brewed by one of the major labels.

“ _Did the men who held him captive drink a particular brand? Alcohol consumption is often coupled with violence. So the association might be what’s bothering him. Or perhaps they made him drink beer, knowing full well what would happen to him if he did_?” The former detective continued to speculate, “ _Or maybe Goren’s not keen on the bottle itself. You don’t need much imagination to know there’s plenty of ways they could’ve hurt him with one of those_.”

Not wanting to imagine the man in front of him being hit repeatedly with a beer bottle or worse, being sodomized with one, Logan made an attempt at steering the conversation in a different direction. But as he tried to turn the discussion to the to the subject of how the best Italian foods were prepared, he could tell Goren was feeling off.

Luckily, once their food arrived and once his companion had a few bites, it seemed to help perk Bobby back up a bit.

“You were right,” Logan touted as he eagerly consumed his meal, “this is hands down the best veal parmesan I’ve ever eaten.”

“Without a doubt,” Bobby concurred. “Back in the day, it wasn’t uncommon for me to come here five nights a week.”

“Really, I surprised they didn’t recognize you the minute you wanted through the door then”

“I half expected them to,” his former colleague said with a laugh. “But I stopped coming here as much after I realized that my actions were getting predictable.”

“What’s wrong with predictability?”

“Nothing,” Goren explained, “until it makes it easy for criminals to track you down.”

Logan’s brows shot up and he immediately wanted to find out more.

“Anyone I know?”

“Remember Nicole Wallace?”

A sharp intake of breath preceded Logan’s reminiscing, “How could I forget? Once I was transferred to Major Case, the first assignment I had was to assist with that investigation where she murdered a guy in the projects. Beauty, brains, and a complete psycho, I’m not sorry she‘s dead.”

“I never wanted her dead,” Goren remarked. “I just didn’t appreciate her coming and sitting across from me when I was trying to unwind and have dinner after a long day on the job.”

“Well, I hope I’m a better dinner companion than she was at least.”

“ _Eh_ ,” uttered Bobby with a lopsided grin. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

Snorting at the joke was a poor choice since he was having a drink of his beer at the moment. It ended up shooting up and out Mike’s nose. As he wiped his face on his napkin, he couldn’t help but feel his heart warm to the sounds of his former colleague’s laughter.

“Oh man,” Goren chuckled as he wiped a tear from his eye, “thanks for that Mike. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.”

After finishing their meal, the two men made their way out and headed back in the direction of the institute. The outing has been much more pleasant that Logan had expected it to be. However, he had still to mention the topic that had made him want to come and see Goren in the first place. Not knowing quite how to put it, he started off in kind of a roundabout way by asking a rather innocuous question.

“Did you grown up Catholic by any chance?”

“What?” Bobby wondered aloud. “Oh, yeah. I did actually. I was an altar boy in fact. You?”

“I might’ve grown up Catholic but the next time I’ll enter a church will be when six of my friends carry me in a box.”

“Hmmm,” his companion hummed.

Logan wondered if the man realized the direction he was taking the conversation.

“You still practicing?” Mike inquired.

“No,” Bobby remarked as he scuffed his feet along the group. “My faith has long since lapsed.”

“A priest ever give you trouble.”

The sound of alarm made its way in Goren’s tone as he replied, “Not that sort of trouble!”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” Logan stated. There was a brief pause before he continued, “Some of us weren’t as lucky.”

“Mike,” Goren gaped, stopping dead in his tracks. “Are you serious? I had no idea.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Logan noted, “It was a long time ago. I just wanted to tell you that I know a bit of what you’re going through. That whatever I can do to help,you only need to ask.”

After a moment, Bobby began walking again.

“Thanks, Mike. That... um... means a lot to me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Logan replied as he gave his companion a lighthearted punch in the arm.

This time Goren did not flinch away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character in this Chapter:  
> [Robert Goren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509454)  
> [Alexandra  Eames](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510174)  
> [Everett Fray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510513)  
> [Mike Logan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/34696919)  
> [James Deakins](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/36854256)
> 
> Characters Mentioned:  
> [Katherine Elizabeth Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510687)  
> [Emil Skoda](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33515112)  
> [Ron Carver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33523272)  
> [Fin Tutuola](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/36966951)  
> [Frances Goren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33518409)  
> [Frank Goren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33518832)  
> [Nicole Wallace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33519126)  
> [John Munch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/36967215)  
> [Don Cragen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/36969141)
> 
> Characters Mentioned but not really worthy of their own Chapter in the Index:  
> Angie Deakins - James Deakins' wife  
> Donny Carlson - Robert Goren's nephew  
> Megan Wheeler - Mike Logan’s former partner while at Major Case  
> Lynn Bishop - Robert Goren’s temporary partner while Eames was on maternity leave  
> John Eames - Alexandra Eames' father


	23. Records

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames bring the documents from Chicago for Bobby to look over.

At least a dozen reports hung pinned to the bulletin board in the lieutenant’s office, each of them had been flagged as potentially legitimate threats to the domestic security of the city of New York. Eames’ task was to decipher which of these were most likely to be credible and which were merely scare tactics. Needless to say, it was not an easy task. A deep breath of air ran between Alexandra’s lips, as she stood in front of the board, and contemplated the possibilities.

A red indicator light flashed on her desk phone a moment before it began to ring. Taking a few steps sideways towards to her desk, Eames only took her eyes off the board for a second as she hit the answer/speaker button.

“Eames,” she greeted curtly.

“Hey,” responded a voice that was recognizable despite the fact that the speaker on her telephone slightly distorted the sound. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, I’m just reviewing some reports,” Eames answered, rather surprised to receive a call from her former partner. “Since when did you start making phone calls?”

“First time for everything,” Goren replied. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you at work, I just had a quick question.”

“Shoot.”

“Dr. Fray mentioned you are coming by later today with those records. I just wanted to make sure that was still happening.”

“Planning on it. I have them sitting on my desk,” she replied slowly. “Why? Did you change your mind?”

“I haven’t changed my mind, Alex. I just… I just wanted to make sure you were still coming.”

“Bobby,” Eames suppressed a groan but didn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes, “I know the last time I visited things got a little heated but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go back on my word.”

“Oh, okay…” the former detective trailed off.

Her arms folded, she turned and faced the phone on her desk. In addition to the police reports and medical records, there was another nondescript oversized envelope she had just barely acquired sitting next to the phone. The contents of which were serious enough that she felt the need to advise Bobby about the matter, sooner or later. It had taken quite a few favors and sneaking behind her chief’s back in order finally to get her hands on Katherine Elizabeth’s juvenile record.

The lieutenant wondered if now was a good time for her to bring up the contents of that record with her former partner but ultimately decided against it. Prudence decreed that she should wait until she could speak with him in person and in a private setting. Realizing that Goren had stopped speaking, she wondered if there was something he was holding back.

“You’ve got something else you wanted to say?” she prodded gently.

“Just that… um… I’m sorry I freaked out on you the other day,” Bobby answered. “It’s just that… back then… back in Chicago, I was in a constant state of misery and fear and it left me numb. And as that numbness has worn off and I have the capacity for other emotions again, they kind of just leap out of nowhere and I don’t necessarily feel like am always in control.”

“You just got out of a counseling session, didn’t you?” Eames surmised.

“How’d you guess?” Goren chuckled, softly.

“Because you’re being particularly introspective,” she teasingly replied. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there as soon as I get done with these reports.”

“Then I should let you get back to it,” Bobby stated. “I’ll see you tonight.”

***

Holding an accordion folder against her side as she stepped through the doors of the Institute, Eames felt unusually nervous. Despite all the progress he had made in these past months, she still feared that Goren wouldn’t be able to handle the emotional roller coaster that was the stark black-and-white conclusions of the records.

“Lieutenant,” called the older male receptionist, “they’re waiting for you in the proprietor’s office. It’s down the hall all the way to the left.”

“Katherine Elizabeth has an office?” Eames inquired, puzzled. _Why would someone who was barely present at the institute need an office?_

“It’s Dr. Basil’s old office, actually,” the receptionist responded. “And Miss Basil—“

Whatever the old man was going to say was cut off by the phone ringing and he waved her along as he answered the call.

The room was easy enough to find and the door was open as she walked in to find Dr. Fray standing next to one of the two chairs in front of a large desk. The room was rather large as it held a variety of furnishing including multiple bookshelves, a couple of small tables, lamps, a coat rack, and an ornate rug. The director turned when Eames entered the room and greeted her warmly.

“Good evening, Alexandra. Thank you for coming. I see you’ve brought the documents. Shall we get started?”

Extending his arm, he gestured towards a sitting area off to the right. Two armchairs and a long couch were positioned around a low coffee table. Already seated on the couch was her former partner and, Eames noted with distaste, Katherine Elizabeth. The proprietor was leaning over, her hand cupped around her mouth, and whispering something in Bobby’s ear that made him grin and shake his head.

“Why is she here?”

The bitter words slipped from Eames’ lips before she had fully formed the thought in her mind and she instantly regretted it.

“Well, hello to you too, Lieutenant,” Basil snarked.

This snide comment did not escape Bobby’s notice as he simultaneously elbowed the young woman in the ribs and glared up at Eames.

“Eames,” Goren stated, “Katherine Elizabeth is here because I asked her to be and Dr. Fray gave his approval. So if it’s alright with you, I’d like to get through the reports as soon as possible. I’m sure you want to get home at a decent hour but I need you here in case I have questions or need some clarification. Alright?”

“Fine,” Eames replied with a sigh, taking off her coat and sinking down into one of the surprisingly comfortable armchairs next to Fray, who had already taken a seat.

Handing the accordion folder over to Goren, Eames watched as he unwound the string that connected the two circular fasteners. Pulling out the stack of folders, he started with the file on the top.

“That’s the police report,” Eames mentioned. “And after that there’s the initial intake form from Chicago med, followed by the rest of the medical documents and Dr. Charles’ psych evaluation.”

Sitting back, Eames rested her eyes on the former detective as he began to sort through the papers, taking note of any of the comments he made, and slightly annoyed that Basil was reading over his shoulder.

“DUI, figures,” Bobby snorted, more to himself than to anyone else, as he started on the first page.

“ _Kipling was arrested on DUI charges,_ ” Eames thought, “ _that is where it all began. If it weren’t for that, Bobby might still be in that basement. But goodness knows what he had to suffer at the hands of that drunkard._ ”

“Shots fired?!” Goren looked up in surprise. “You’re kidding me, right? I never once heard gunshots in the area nor did I ever see a gun.”

Clearing her throat, Eames responded, “Voight had suspicions but needed a legitimate reason to enter the home.”

“So he just fabricated probable cause?” Goren pushed.

Looking down at her hands and rubbing her thumbs together, Eames wasn’t sure what to say. Luckily, Fray stepped in and answered for her.

“Robert, I know that as a detective, Sergeant Voight’s actions might give you pause but the important thing to focus on is that you were rescued from a very bad situation.”

Huffing, Bobby went back to reading.

“Wow,” he murmured.

“ _Hmm_?” Basil inquired. “Wow what?”

Answering, Bobby said, “They called the fire department to cut the hinges off the re-enforced door. I don’t remember any of that.”

“What do you remember?” asked Fray.

The question gave Goren pause as he seemed to be hesitant to answer. But eventually, he did respond.

“There was this excruciating pain and then everything went black. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital. I don’t remember anyone coming into the basement. How many people were there?”

“Voight and Olinsky,” Eames replied, “then the firefighters from the rescue squad along with the paramedics. All in all, 6 or 7.”

“Oh,” Goren nodded before diving back into the documents.

The arrest record and interviews with the perpetrators he read in silence, not seeing it fit to make any comments. It wasn’t long, though, before he got to the evidence list. There he had some questions.

“Did they put any of the photographs in the house into evidence?”

“Um,” Eames stalled as she tried to recall, “I believe so. Why? Was there a specific one you wanted to know about?”

Unexpectedly, Bobby briefly glanced over at Miss Basil before replying, “No. It’s fine. I was just curious.”

Going through the list, he paused and stated, “I’m glad that the lab didn’t get any information off of that corrupted DVD.”

“Why? What was on the DVD?” Basil asked, pulling the sheet from Bobby’s hands so she could take a better look at the list.

“You do not want to know, trust me,” Goren declared.

Eames still displeased with the proprietor’s presence, couldn’t help but to reach forward and take the paper from Katherine Elizabeth and put it face down on the growing pile of discarded pages.

Clearing his throat, the former detective not-so-subtly changed the subject, “Where’s the documentation for taking evidence out of storage?”

“What evidence?” Eames queried.

“You know,” Bobby clarified, “the stuffed penguin. You brought it to me in an evidence bag.”

“Um,” the lieutenant faltered with a grimace, “there’s no documentation because the penguin I brought you wasn’t the same one recovered from the crime scene.”

Looking up, his face impassable, Goren simply stared at her.

“What do you mean it’s not the same penguin? You said you had washed it not swapped it,” he said, hints of anger flickering in his voice.

“Bobby, it’s just a —“ Eames started to explain but was cut off.

“Lieutenant,” Fray interjected, “I’m sure you’re not one to discount the emotional value that is invested into inanimate objects by persons going through trauma.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized as she lowered her eyes, “but the other one was covered in … trace evidence. I wanted to get it back to you as quickly as possible because you were in so much pain and I thought you would find it comforting. But barring lifting it from the evidence locker while no one was looking, I had no other recourse.”

"Trace evidence? That’s code for semen, right?” Katherine Elizabeth added, quite unnecessarily. The look Fray gave her was enough that she closed her mouth tightly and shrunk back.

Raising his hands slightly in exasperation, Bobby shook his head.

“It’s fine. I just was caught off guard, that’s all,” he commented before moving on to the next file.

While Eames was still concerned about Bobby’s reaction to finding out that his penguin was an imposter, she hoped he would still treasure it knowing now it had come from her instead of Barrett and Kipling.

Watching Bobby flip through the pages of the medical records, she wondered what other surprises she had unwittingly left for him to find. As she had been present for much of the police proceedings, especially the latter half, most of what she had learned about Goren’s medical treatment had come about via that fateful meeting where she had left and vomited half-way through and Voight had to come and find her.

“Oh,” the detective exclaimed softly as he read, “I nearly died in the ER.”

“Really?” Katherine Elizabeth inquired, leaning forward. “How?”

“Malignant hyperthermia,” Bobby said, “it’s when the body has a … um…”

“Severe allergic reaction to a medication, resulting in a rapid increase in body temperature,” Fray explained, finishing the other man’s sentence. Undoubtedly, as a psychiatrist, he had attended medical school and was still familiar with that aspect of his training. “This is what happens when someone who has drug intolerance syndrome is exposed to certain pharmaceuticals.”

“In my case, it was 150 milligrams of clindamycin, 30 milligrams of ketorolac, and 80 milligrams dopamine,” Goren recited, reading directly from the page before him. “Not that I remember any of that happening.”

Huffing in a sympathetic manner, Basil muttered, “That’s scary.”

After briefly paging through the rest of the medical intake forms, Goren went to the next folder. Upon opening it and glancing down at the page, he hastily closed the cover and tossed the file on the end of the table farthest from him.

“I don’t need to see that,” he proclaimed, clearly rattled.

Eames knew what was in the folder, of course. It was the results of the rape kit. The lab results had been quite clear. Apart from tell-tale bruising, Goren had also sustained anal tearing. Additionally, there was plenty of both Kipling’s and Barrett’s semen, saliva, and hair found all over her former partner’s body: on the single item of clothing he had been wearing, on his skin, and in his mouth and other orifices.

“Sorry,” Eames apologized, “I had my doubts about including that file. I just didn’t want you to think I was purposefully omitting documents.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Goren replied, flashing a look over at the psychiatrist as if he was worried the other man would criticize him for reacting in a negative fashion.

Continuing his review of the documents, the detective was about half-way through the stack of medical reports, when he stopped, his eyes frozen on the page.

“Robert,” Fray coaxed, “what is it?”

“I… um… was given chemo?”

“May I see?” Fray asked, holding out his hand.

Taking the folder from the former detective, the director poured over the text.

“The CT scan showed signs of sudden bone density loss. Do you remember receiving any sort of drug intravenously?” Fray asked.

“I was given something but I never knew what it was. Many of my early memories of that place are muddled and I’m not sure how much of it was real,” Bobby quietly explained. “My mind was just so foggy, I couldn’t properly concentrate on anything. I felt weak and nauseous and like my blood was itchy.”

“Sounds like you were given high doses of chemotherapy drugs. And given the fact you have markings on your posterior iliac crest—“

“I’m sorry,” Katherine Elizabeth interrupted, “but the posterior crest thing is the part of the pelvis that juts forward, correct?”

“That is correct,” Fray answered.

“Why would they mess with the bones in that region?”

“That’s where bone marrow is harvested.”

“But I thought you just said his bone density was lowered by the chemo, why would they extract compromised marrow?”

“The physicians in Chicago seemed to think that was done prior to him receiving chemo so they could perhaps—“

“No,” Goren interjected. “Chemo came first. The marrow came second. Not that I remember much of that either, I just remember passing out from the pain when it happened.”

“Maybe they were putting something into his bones instead of taking out,” Basil hypothesized.

“If it was bone marrow or something akin to that,” Fray explained, “they wouldn’t need to inject it directly into his bones. They could’ve just injected it into his bloodstream.”

“Since when did Kipling or Barrett ever take the easy route? It seems more likely that they just did whatever would cause the most pain,” imparted Katherine Elizabeth.

“Enough,” the detective proclaimed, his tone had changed to one of anxiety. “Conjecture will get us nowhere and talking about them so much is making me uneasy. Let’s just move on.”

“Alright, Bobby,” Basil acquiesced, rubbing her hand along his arm as if to comfort him.

The gesture did not escape Eames’ notice. The casual contact she had been observing between the two of them was unsettling. After all, he had been through, it was unsurprising that Bobby was opposed to physical contact. Immediately evident in that hospital room in Chicago, his avoidance of being touched continued, to some degree, even to this very day. The former detective needed to be familiar with someone if he was going to let them touch him. This led Eames to wonder, just how close the two of them had managed to become in these past months.

What really troubled her was the discrepancy in power, Basil owned the place, and Bobby... Bobby was not just a ward but, due to him receiving the charity of the institute, a dependent one at that.

_What is Katherine Elizabeth getting out of this relationship, I wonder?_

The words of Dr. Daniel Charles, from Chicago Med, rang in her head: victims of sexual abuse are more likely to be re-victimized by predators seeking an easy target.

The thought made her stomach churn. Given the young woman’s history, Basil should not be touching him.

So caught up in her speculations, Eames barely noticed a knock at the door. Standing up, Fray went over to answer it and ended up stepping out for a moment to deal with a separate issue.

“Eames,” Bobby called, cocking his head to get her attention, “still with us?”

“Oh,” she replied, catching herself as she realized her thoughts had taken her down a wayward path. “Sorry, I just got distracted.” Motioning to the last folder in the former detective’s hands she added, “There should only be the psych eval left.”

Snorting, Goren mentioned, “How many of these have I had in my lifetime?”

“Well, given your family history—“ Katherine Elizabeth responded but was cut off by Eames.

“It was a rhetorical question. No one asked you to speculate,” Eames hissed.

“Alex…” Goren cautioned, the warning behind his tone had been enough for the lieutenant to realize he wasn’t pleased with her hostility.

“ _Fine_ ,” Eames thought as she waved her hand as she exasperatedly relented. “ _If Bobby wants to defend her, let him. He won’t be doing that once I tell him what she really is_.”

“Okay, so the psych eval,” Bobby huffed as he rolled his eyes and before he began to read. This one he read slowly as he soaked in what Dr. Charles had written about him.

Katherine Elizabeth, it seemed, wasn’t as interested in the file as the detective. No longer peering over Goren’s shoulder, she had begun to fidget. Bending forward, she shuffled the sheets of paper on the coffee table back into order. Stretching to reach the folder that had been tossed to the far end, Basil picked it up and began to read it.

Eames just couldn’t stop herself from barking at the proprietor as she snatched the rape-kit result papers away, “No!”

“Seriously?” Goren questioned as he closed the folder in his hands. “What is going on? You know what, I don’t want to know. Fray can deal with it when he gets back. I am not going to be the referee.”

Feeling the lines upon her face deepen in frustration, the lieutenant was quick to defend her actions, “So you want her to know exactly all the damage those bastards did when they raped you?”

The room had suddenly gone dead silent as Eames realized she had taken it too far. It had been a mistake to so blatantly bring up the trauma her former partner had endured.

“Honestly, Eames, I don’t care. I just want my friends to get along,” Bobby stated firmly but she could feel the anger behind his words. “Is that too much to ask?”

“No,” the lieutenant replied, resentful as she sat back in her chair and turned away from the pair on the couch, not wanting to see the smug look of satisfaction on Basil’s face.

“That goes for you too,” the detective told the young woman, “stop instigating things.”

“What? Me?” Katherine Elizabeth deflected, her voice laden with false innocence.

“Fine,” Bobby declared. “Fine. You two don’t want to act like adults, then we’re done here.”

Plainly disgruntled by the turn of events, Goren haphazardly picked up the accordion-folder so he could place the files back within its case. As he did so, an over-sized envelope fell to the floor. Feeling out-of-sorts by the turn of events, Eames still wasn’t looking in that direction and as such, she failed to notice.

She had thought it was the sounds of papers being filed away but it was really Bobby unfastening the metal butterfly clasp and pulling the pages out of the envelope. He had always been insatiably curious. It was not until Eames heard Katherine Elizabeth gasp that she turned to look.

Realizing she had somehow inadvertently put the juvenile record in the accordion-folder along with the other files, her stomach sunk as she saw the familiar envelope in Bobby’s hands, though the pages were now in Miss Basil’s grasp. The young woman’s eyes were wide and her face pale as her eyes met the lieutenant’s. Time seemed to freeze at that moment as Katherine Elizabeth swiftly got up and exited the office before Eames could stop her.

For his part, Goren neither moved nor said anything, evidently still processing what he had seen. But Eames couldn’t afford that luxury as she was still responsible for those significant documents which Basil now held. Dashing after the young proprietor, the lieutenant caught up with her in the lobby.

“Katherine Elizabeth,” Eames insisted, “I’m going to need those back.”

Spinning around to face the lieutenant, Miss Basil gave the woman a look so severe that it made Eames’ blood run cold. Speaking in a hushed tone was not enough to conceal her fury as Katherine Elizabeth seethed, “Where in the hell did you dig this up? My grandfather had it expunged years ago.”

“The record was sealed, it’s not the same thing,” Eames responded, scrambling to get control of the moment.

“And yet, here it is,” Basil retorted, waving the papers out of the lieutenant’s reach. “Unsealed.”

“You have to understand,” the lieutenant explained, mentally kicking herself for being so incompetent as to not notice the envelope had gotten mixed into the files earlier. “I just want to make sure that Bobby was safe. And out of everyone who interacts with him, you were the only one who had not been required to have a background check.”

Basil protested, shaking her head for emphasis, “No, I don’t need a background check. Besides, I would never compromise the safety of any of the residents here.”

Katherine Elizabeth’s declaration left Eames feeling as if she had no other choice but to expose the hypocrisy of the situation.

Unwittingly, the level of her voice rose as she countered, “Too bad you didn’t have that same resolve when you stole that boy’s clothes, forced him into having sexual contact with you, and shoved him naked down a flight of stairs. You nearly killed him.”

“I was just a kid,” Katherine Elizabeth rationalized.

The young woman’s refusal to take responsibility for her actions made the lieutenant’s blood boil.

“No,” Eames spat back, her resolve to pacify the young woman had completely gone out the window, “he was just a kid and you were just a spoiled brat. It was true then and it’s true now. The only reason you got off with merely a slap on your wrist was due to the fact that your Granddaddy got his buddies in the justice system to look the other way.”

“Alexandra!”

The thunder in the voice of the man that called her name made her jump. Pivoting on her heel to look, Eames’ gaze fell upon a very angry Everett Fray.He had been coming down the hallway from the elevator but it was clear from the look on his face he had heard what she had said.

A quick intake of breath on her part eclipsed the time it took Fray to make it over to the quarreling pair.

“I don’t know what you are thinking,” he fumed, “but this is neither the time nor place for such an argument.”

“Everett, I—“ Basil began.

“No,” Fray cut the young woman short. “You will not speak. Do you understand me, young lady? Roger would be so ashamed if he could see you now, making a scene like this in front of your employees and the residents.”

Then turning on Eames, he continued, “As for you, I think it’s best if you leave.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” the lieutenant growled. “I just need—“

Her words froze in her throat as she came to the realization that Bobby was standing in the entryway of the corridor that led down towards the offices, in one arm was the accordion-folder and her coat slung over the other.

Hanging her head, she promptly crossed over to him and gathered her things.

“Sorry,” Eames murmured, “I didn’t mean to…”

He avoided eye contact with her but if she had been able to look into those deep brown eyes, she would have been startled to see them filled with disappointment tinged fear. 

“Don’t come back,” the man whispered softly but without hesitation.

At this, the lieutenant felt a hard lump form in her throat. She had lost a war she did not know she had been fighting.

“Bobby,” she pleaded as she moved in closer.

She could see it in his body movements, the knee-jerk response of pulling away, he did not want her to touch him. This final move hurt her worse than anything he could’ve said.

Choking back tears, Eames turned and made her way towards the exit, eyeing the security staff that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. Fray had apparently managed to get the papers from Basil and, as he held the door open for her, handed them to the lieutenant as she left the building. A rush of cold air hit her in the face as she stepped into the night, making the tears on her cheeks freeze in their tracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part III of Trials and Tribulations is nearing completion. Only 2 or 3 chapters remaining!!!!
> 
> Characters in this Chapter:  
> [Alexandra  Eames](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510174)  
> [Katherine Elizabeth Basil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510687)  
> [Everett Fray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33510513)  
> [Robert Goren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504409/chapters/33509454)


	24. Damage Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback and a few discussions are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep telling myself that I wouldn't make these chapters so long but that doesn't seem to be the case. I hope you enjoy.

The sound of her own heartbeat was nearly deafening as Katherine Elizabeth closed the door behind her upon returning to Grandfather’s office. Having been sent to the room by Fray and told to wait for him like a naughty school child, she actually didn’t mind having the excuse to leave the situation. The moment Lieutenant Eames stepped out the door, everything had gone still and silent. However, this silence was soon broken by a stifled sob as Bobby, clearly upset by the turn of events, had started to cry.

“ _Oh gosh, I wonder what my brother thinks of me now_?” she wondered to herself as she anxiously paced the office floor.

Moreover, what about the staff and residents? How many of them had overheard the exchange between her and the lieutenant?

“ _Ugh… And Everett?_ ”

Despite the current state of their relationship, Katherine Elizabeth had always liked and respected the man, even at a young age. When Grandfather had first started bringing her along with him to work, she had immediately bonded with the then assistant-director. Tagging along with him and getting underfoot, he had practically been family, almost like an uncle.

But that had all changed eight years ago when she had received that fateful call from him late one night while she was studying in her college dorm room. Unaware that her grandfather had even been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, getting the call from Fray telling her that Roger was dead felt like the man had ripped the heart clean out of her chest.

Was it really any wonder that the once close relationship was now strained?

However, the fact remained that Fray, being a close friend of the family at the time, knew full-well about the incident that had transpired during her last year of middle-school. He and her grandfather were very likely the only ones that believed her side of the story. Everyone else, including the teachers, cops, prosecutors, and judge, had all believed the other students who were all just trying to rid themselves of any responsibility.

A mixture of emotions, ranging from anger to betrayal, to guilt, and to sorrow, Katherine Elizabeth couldn’t help but recall that unfortunate incident that led to her arrest at the age of 14. As her mind drifted, she was no longer in the comfort of her grandfather’s old office but in the austere environment of her former school.

_On her way out of the building, an armful of clothing had been thrown out the window above her. Wanting to find out where the items had come from, she gathered them up and made her way back inside and up the stairs towards the gymnasium._

“ _Gay boy, gay boy, gay boy,” chanted a few of the jocks as they took turns shoving around Kyle Weinstedt, clothed in a towel, his hair wet and dripping._

_“Knock it off,” Katherine Elizabeth called as she made it to the top of the steps._

_A small crowd of classmates had gathered at this point but no teachers yet._

_One of the more daring jocks called out, “Looky here Kylie. It’s your boyfriend.”_

_Tall for her age, even then, Katherine Elizabeth’s maturing body had given her height but not curves. A short haircut and a teacher’s simple mistake of misgendering her had led to taunts and mockery that she was a boy instead of a girl._

_“Why don’t you give him a kiss?” came a snide remark that set off the rest of the kids._

_“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss…”_

_Kyle, now beet red at this point, had noticed Katherine Elizabeth holding his clothes. Making his way over to her, he held his hand out for the garments._

_But fueled by the taunts and catcalls around her, she had wanted to join in with the crowd instead of being a target._

_“What do you say Kyle?” she asked, holding the items out of his reach, thinking that if maybe he did what they wanted that they would stop calling her a boy. “If you want your clothes back, give me a kiss.”_

_“No,” he replied adamantly, “I just want them back, give them to me!”_

_“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss…” the other adolescents chanted._

_Unsure of what to do, Katherine Elizabeth just stood there until suddenly, Kyle decided he had had enough and lunged for her. Instinctively, she put a hand out and pushed him away from her. But his feet had been wet and he slipped on the smooth tile. Down he went, toppling over the ledge and down the steps, only to come to a crash at the bottom. The towel that had previously been wrapped around his middle now gone._

_It was then that an adult had finally arrived on the scene, having heard the sounds of a child tumbling down the stairs. Finding Kyle naked at the bottom of the steps, his collarbone broken, the teacher was quick to look around for the culprit. And there she was, frozen at the top of the steps, still holding the boy’s clothes. As for the rest of the kids, they had scattered the moment Kyle fell._

_The police had been called and charges were filed. Despite never intending to hurt Kyle, she had ultimately been the cause of his fall and the brunt of the charges fell on her shoulders. Not to mention, Mr. and Mrs. Weinstedt had been out for blood when they found out what had happened to their son._

_As well connected as he was, even her Grandfather was unable to make the charges go away. And so it was settled, she would plead guilty and go on probation until she turned 18. Sexual assault because Kyle was naked and she had tried to force sexual contact (the kiss), aggravated assault for causing bodily harm, and attempted manslaughter because that push down the steps could have very well been fatal._

“ _Argh_ ,” Katherine Elizabeth vented as she slumped down into one the chairs.

It was inevitable that Fray would be coming to scold her, but making her wait for it was beyond irritating. Where was that man? What was taking him so long?

***

“I’m very sorry,” Fray conceded as he sat with Goren in the patient’s bedroom. “Truly, I am. Had I known that Miss Basil and your lieutenant would get into a dispute, I would’ve never have left.”

Not feeling much like talking, Bobby shrugged before leaning over to the side and flopped onto the bed. Closing his eyes, he wished the director would just leave.

“I won’t lie to you and tell you everything all right,” Fray confided. “Consequently, I need to run off and do damage control. But before I do, I need to know that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Goren muttered into the pillows.

“Robert,” the director pushed, “given the fact that going through all those documents was emotionally taxing and then for the evening to culminate with Alexandra leaving, I doubt very much that you are _fine_. Tell me the truth, how are you feeling right now?”

Knowing that Fray was much better at the waiting game than he was, Bobby reluctantly answered.

“Scared.”

“Scared of whom? Miss Basil? How much of that file did you read?”

“No,” Bobby answered, shaking his head before trying to explain. “I managed to read most of it. But those were juvenile offenses. Eames should’ve known better than to dredge those up. It was all the yelling that …”

“That what?”

“That reminded me of … events that happened in Chicago.”

“Would Barrett or Kipling often yell at you?”

Shaking his head ‘no', Bobby still could not bring himself to speak about them directly to anyone other than his sister. It was a corrupted version of the rule not to talk and he had yet to break it.

“They would yell at each other then?” Fray inquired.

Nodding ‘yes’, he waited for the director to dig deeper and pry more information out of him. Bobby didn’t exactly want to share the fact that when his captors were yelling at each other, it was a sure indication that an intensified level of brutality would shortly be unleashed upon him.

Instead, Fray simply stated, “I’m very sorry you had to experience that.”

“Me too,” mumbled the former detective.

“Okay then. Why don’t you try and get some rest and I’ll go attend to the others and Katherine Elizabeth,” mentioned Fray as he began to stand.

Feeling a surge of protectiveness, Goren could help but to appeal, “Don’t be too hard on her.”

“Oh?” the director puzzled, “And why is that? Is there something I should know?”

“It’s not like Eames confronted her with the files, they just happened to be in the folder along with the other documents. I don’t believe either of them knew what I was reading until Katherine Elizabeth grabbed it out of my hands. I think she felt like she had been ambushed and she just left without a word.”

“Ah, I see. So that’s how they ended up in the lobby.”

“Eames was the one shouting,” Goren confessed. “I really don’t know what got into her.”

“It is entirely possible, if not likely,” Fray postulated, “that after everything that has happened to you, she’s become overprotective. Consequently, she is very sensitive to any potential threat, no matter how minor.”

“Katherine Elizabeth isn’t a threat.”

“Given some to time calm down,” Fray concluded, “Alexandra will hopefully come to that same conclusion on her own.”

Picking up the stuffed penguin on the nightstand and handing it to the patient laying on the bed, Fray patted Goren’s head and told him goodnight before turning and leaving the room.

The parting touch Fray had given him had been unexpected but not unwelcome. It had felt reassuring in a moment of turmoil and he wondered if the director had done it almost absentmindedly. Perhaps shaken by the incident himself, Fray’s typical stern demeanor had slipped for a moment.

It was then that Goren realized that he trusted the director more than he cared to admit.

Holding tightly onto Miss Alex, Bobby didn’t mind that it wasn’t the same one the Daddies had given him. If anything, it was more comforting to know that it had been Eames who had gone out of her way to replace the original. An ember of regret began to burn inside him and he wished he had not told her not to come back.

 

***

Upon entering his old colleague’s office to find Miss Basil nervously twisting at the curls in her hair, Everett Fray was not surprised that the young woman was quick to speak first.

“How’s Bobby?”

“Mr. Goren is fine,” Fray remarked, taking a seat next to her. “Naturally, he was upset by the incident but luckily it didn’t trigger any sort of meltdown. For that, you can be grateful.”

“Grateful?” Basil scoffed. “That’s not exactly how I’m feeling at the moment. And what about the staff and other patients? Did any of them overhear what she said? Who else do I need to be concerned about being upset with me?”

“Just a few members of the staff heard the part about the boy and I’ve spoken with them. It was the volume of the exchange that drew the most attention. You know how that foyer acts like an echo chamber, it magnified the sound.”

“It wasn’t my fault, Everett. That woman lost her damn mind.”

Raising his eyebrows skeptically, Fray returned, “Miss Basil, I am perfectly aware of the conditions leading up to the incident. You have a knack for finding someone’s buttons and pushing them.”

“I swear, Everett. I didn’t do anything.”

“Could you at least, for once, attempt to act like an adult and take responsibility for your actions?”

“Don’t be so condescending.”

“You’re on thin ice Missy, don’t push it.”

“Eames was the one that brought those documents to show Bobby, despite the fact that they were sealed. I don’t even understand how she got access to them in the first place. Maybe I should call my lawyer.”

“Katherine Elizabeth Basil, you will do no such thing,” the director snapped. “Lieutenant Eames has every right to be concerned about her friend’s well-being. She may have misstepped by bringing those documents but Goren said he doubted she did it intentionally. You will not retaliate. Do you understand me?”

Shrinking back in her seat a bit, Basil nodded solemnly.

“He doesn’t belong to you, you know,” he pronounced.

Seemingly steading herself, Katherine Elizabeth responded, “Bobby doesn’t belong to her either.”

Groaning inwardly, Fray decided that he had better address the issue.

“Perhaps I have let Goren and you get too close over these past months. Initially, I just thought your fascination would abate on its own. However, it didn’t and time went on and he seemed to come out of his shell and you seemed to settle down. But now, I have concerns that you to have an unhealthy connection.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? When you were younger, I clearly remember speaking to your grandfather about you having an attachment disorder.”

“Oh come on, Everett! You know I never warranted a full diagnosis and it was just repercussion of losing my parents at a young age. I grew out of that a long time ago.”

“Have you now? You majored in psychology, surely you remember the symptoms. Shall I list them for you?”

Fray was calm in his approach as he set out the characteristics, “First there’s the inability to show genuine care or affection, then acting inappropriately in social settings, refusal to ask for assistance, and lastly, rarely forming lasting interpersonal relationships. And you know just as well as I do that when those with the disorder do form attachments, that those relationships are formed impulsively, are intense in their nature, and ultimately toxic.”

Eyes wide, Katherine Elizabeth almost growled, “That maybe be true for those with that condition but none of those characteristics apply to me.”

“Fine,” he retorted, “prove me wrong. Tell me, do you have any close friends?”

“This is New York,” she rationalized, “no one has time for friends.”

“So that’s a no.”

Huffing in frustration, Basil replied, “No. I have friends… Colin for instance.”

“Colin? You mean Colin Jones, the young man who accompanied you to the Endowment Banquet?”

“See, I didn’t make him up. You remember him.”

“Yes, Katherine Elizabeth, I clearly remember you bringing an escort to a formal social function.”

“Escort? Whatever gave you that idea?!”

“Because I have a duty to protect the reputation of this establishment and I had security run a check on him. Not to mention, you know full well that I oversee your personal finances because they are managed by the institute’s accountants. You thought I wouldn’t notice that you withdraw large sums of cash to pay for those types of services.”

“I didn’t think you would care.”

“Honestly, Miss Basil, I couldn’t care less about who or what you do in your free time as long as you’re not negatively affecting the institute. But the man is not your friend if you’re paying him.”

“Okay, fine. But at least you can’t say Bobby isn’t my friend.”

“An impulsive friendship, if there ever was one. You met him only recently. And as a patient in a mental health facility, he’s not exactly the type of person you could call on if you needed help. What if something happened to you? Who would you call?”

Meekly, she replied, “I’d call you.”

His face fell as he was taken aback by her answer. Surely, she didn’t count him as her friend?

“Me? Katherine Elizabeth, I promised to look after you for your grandfather’s sake. But surely, our relationship is tertiary at best.”

A brief smile crossed her face before the proprietor replied, “If I thought our relationship was tertiary, then I would’ve fired you years ago.”

“You’ve threatened to do that more than once,” Fray replied.

“And yet you are still here, despite the fact that you’ve been berating me and informing me that you think I have a mental illness. Doesn’t that show that I actually care about you and what you have to say?”

The director had to admit, her argument wasn’t totally without merit. However, he found it unsettling how she had managed to flip the dynamic of their conversation with that brief smile.

“You’ve never cared about what I’ve had to say before,” Fray said, “so why would I believe you’re just not bluffing.”

“Because…” she trailed off, as though she was unsure of what she was about to say, “… because I guess I feel as though I can never live up to your expectations.”

“ _I expected very little of you_ ,” Everett thought but he didn’t say it out loud, knowing the sentiment would be detrimental to the course of their discussion.

“And you said you wanted me to be accountable for my actions,” Basil continued, “so let me apologize for making you think that our relationship is third-rate. It was never my intention. There’s just a lot of resentment built up that I’ve let fester.”

“Resentment?” he questioned. “Resentment over what, exactly?”

The young woman’s eyes shone in the light, filling with tears that she held back from falling. Muscles along her throat bobbed as she swallowed the emotion that was holding her back.

“You were the one that called and told me that the only person that had ever truly loved me was dead. And then… and then you just hung up the phone. I didn’t even know Grandfather was sick.”

The smack of her statement stung and he felt a lump form in his throat.

“He… uh… didn’t want to burden you. You had just started college and he didn’t want to distract you from your studies. Roger was so sure he could beat it. And I … I was just trying to follow his wishes.”

“Everett,” Katherine Elizabeth lamented, “I should’ve been told sooner. I never even got to say goodbye.”

“I know,” the director confessed. “And I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have been so consumed in my own grief that I ignored yours.”

A moment of silence filled the air as both of them took the chance to gain a bit of semblance.

“ _Ah_ ,” she sniffled, running her hand over her face, “what are we doing, blubbering about the past? It’s late and I’m stressed and I would assume the same is true for you. I just want to go home.”

“Yeah,” Fray affirmed, feeling drained. “Probably for the best.”

“We good?”

“Yes, Katherine Elizabeth. We’re good.”

“So you still think I have attachment disorder?”

“No,” he replied with a soft laugh, “but you do have some tendencies in that area that could do with some addressing.”

“I’ll get right on that,” she retorted with a grin and a roll of her eyes. “Do you think it’s okay if I run up and check on Bobby?”

“Best leave it a few days,” Fray answered. “He’s most likely asleep by now.”

“Okay,” Basil said as she walked over to the coat rack and took her coat down. “Good night, Everett.”

“Good night,” he replied as he watched the young woman leave.

***

A few days later, while momentarily buried in regret, Goren sat quietly in his bedroom. Listening to the pre-dawn hustle and bustle that just barely permeated the walls of the institute. Stroking the soft fur of the plushie in his arm, he was unable to sleep.

He should’ve better anticipated that there would be a conflict between Eames and the proprietor. Five years as a long time and, while children were resilient, it was little wonder that the Daddies had left the girl with a darkness, not of her own making. And while he was confident in his ability to deal with that aspect of Basil’s personality, it had been stupid of him to not realize Eames would notice and react negatively.

However, seeing her shouting in anger at his little sister had pushed him into territory he did not want to go. All that yelling had scared him and stirred up that old familiar serpent known as fear, which curled itself in his belly and stopped the boy in his tracks. The old him would’ve intervened but he couldn’t bring himself to act. And so he lashed out and told Eames not to come back.

That had been a mistake.

“Please Alex,” he whispered to the penguin, as if it had some connection to his former partner, “come back. I didn’t mean it.”

Sighing deeply, Goren flopped down on the bed and curled into a ball, too tired to pull the covers up. He had barely gotten any rest the past few nights, his guilty conscience along with the other things he had learned that night kept him from drifting off.

Hearing footsteps approach his door, Bobby closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. The sound halted at his door and the patient waited for the sound to start again as he knew the orderly would move on to check on another resident. And yet, the sound of footfalls did not resume.

“Bobby,” he heard Basil’s voice call gently, “you awake?”

Cracking an eye open, Goren saw the slender form of the proprietor standing in his doorway. Knowing it best not to prolong the inevitable, he gestured for her to enter.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” he stated as he saw the evident dark circles beneath her eyes when she drew closer and sat at the end of the bed.

“It’s not for lack of trying. Not even sleeping with, um…” Katherine Elizabeth hesitated as she fumbled for a plausible ending to the sentence she had inadvertently begun. “… with, um, one of those white noise machines did the trick. Besides, you don’t look like you’ve been getting much rest either.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Goren muttered.

“I should’ve listened to you, Bobby. I completely overreacted and I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?”

“No, just disappointed I guess. If anyone is mad it’s Fray. I’m surprised he let you come and visit me at all.”

“Haven’t I told you before that I can handle him?” she replied with a smile. “Besides, he and I spoke at length and worked things out.”

“Did you work things out with Eames?” Goren asked, finally sitting up to face her.

The soured expression on the young woman’s face was enough for him to deduce her answer.

“Part of the reason I came so early today is that I didn’t want to risk running into her,” Katherine Elizabeth replied. “I realize that may seem somewhat immature of me but I don’t want to rock that particular boat just yet.”

“I don’t know if you’ll see her here anytime soon.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I told her not to come back,” he replied guiltily.

“Bobby! Why would you say that to her? She's your best friend. Don't you realize how rare it is to have someone like that?”

From his reclined position on the bed, the former detective merely shrugged his shoulders at the question. Instead, he asked, “Can we… can we just not talk about it?”

“Okay…” Basil remarked. “Is there something else you want to talk about?”

“ _Um_ …” Goren hummed.

The truth was that there had been other ideas preoccupying his mind since that night. Specifically, the medical files. Leaning over to check the doorway to make sure no one would overhear them, Bobby switched to speaking in a more comfortable tongue.

“Do you know what cell memory phenomenon is?” he cautiously asked, pushing himself up to a sitting position so he could face her.

Lines appeared on her forehead as Basil thought hard on the question before answering, “Sounds familiar but I think you’ve stumped me on this one.”

“It’s when a recipient of an organ transplant exhibits the donor’s characteristic traits.”

“Okay… But what does that have to do with either of us? Do you think the Daddies performed an organ transplant on you?”

“Essentially, yes,” the former detective did his best to explain. “You saw in the medical records that they may have transplanted bone marrow. I’m saying that it could’ve very well have been yours. So I guess what I’m asking is do you have a small scar at the front on either side of your hips?”

“ _Hmpf_ ,” Basil snorted. “Do I have _a_ scar? Bobby, I’m covered in them. I have scars on my hips, on my back, on my abdomen, and my chest. They carved me up like a Christmas ham.”

Goren could feel the blood drain from his face as he realized exactly what his little sister was describing to him: vivisection. The bastards had dissected her like a frog in a science lab, only she had the misfortune of being alive while they did it. And Barrett had the audacity to tell him sweet little things about her like how he washed her hair in the bathtub.

He couldn’t restrain himself and reached out and pulled Katherine Elizabeth into an embrace, moving her so she was practically in his lap and pressed up against his chest. For her part, she didn’t seem to mind being held tightly.

“Oh sweetheart,” Goren whispered, “I am so sorry that happened. I had no idea.”

“It is what it is,” she replied, her voice muffled as she lingered in his arms. “Probably would’ve happened to you sooner rather than later if the cops didn’t find you went they did.”

Not that he would’ve thought it possible but her passing comment made him feel more disturbed than he had been in the previous moment.

“Okay, Bobby, enough,” Katherine Elizabeth said as she pulled away and moved back to the end of the bed, straightening her dress. “All this familial affection is making me feel all sappy. Now, why did you bring up cell memory?”

“Oh,” Goren postulated hesitantly as the notion he wanted to convey seemed a tiny far-fetched, “I just thought that maybe it’s the reason why I feel like I have such a strong connection to you. Almost like there are times I can sense you when you’re nearby or know how you’re feeling.”

“ _Hmm_ ,” Basil agreed, “I know what you mean. It’s not a constant sensation so I can’t exactly put my finger on it.”

A slight smirk parted her lips as she was clearly amused by the idea.

“Like a sixth sense or ESP,” she added.

“I know it’s a bit far-fetched but not completely out of the realm of possibility,” he concluded. “The only thing that really makes any logical sense, at least in my mind, it’s sort of like that mutual instinct twins share. You know, like when they speak in unison or feel each other’s pain, a connection on a subliminal biological level. Or do I just sound crazy?”

“Not a term that I would use but no, you don’t sound crazy.”

Scoffing, he pointed out, “And yet here I am, a resident of a mental health facility.”

“Come now, Bobby,” his sister chided. “You know you don’t have to stay here forever, most residents don’t. Haven’t you spoken to Taylor or Woods about getting discharged?”

“A bit but part of that is knowing where you’re going to live and I don’t have anywhere to go. Eames has a life of her own and though she would probably agree to it, I could never live with her and not feel like I wasn’t creating a huge imposition.

“Then, I came to the conclusion,” Goren continued, a little unsure of what he was about to say, “that most people rely on family when they get out of a place like this. And as it turns out, I have a younger sister who has a spare room she might be willing to let me stay in for a while.”

“Oh,” Katherine Elizabeth replied, seemingly startled by his proposition. “You want to come live with me? Really?”

Trying to dismiss the notion, he said, “Never mind. It was just a dumb idea.”

“No, no. It’s not dumb. It just hadn’t crossed my mind as a possibility given the circumstances. I mean, no one knows we’re related and so having a patient move into my home would be quite the scandal. But if you can get Fray to agree to it, then I’m game.”

“Are you sure?”

“You tell me,” Basil replied, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

***

As February was winding down to a close, Goren found himself taking part in ‘the process’ more and more. If he wasn’t at a meal or sleeping, he could typically be found attending one of the assorted therapy sessions that the institute offered. In addition to the typical one-on-one counseling sessions, there was: group therapy, physical therapy, art therapy, music therapy, recreational therapy, vocational therapy, animal-assisted therapy, and humanitarian-work therapy.

Though most of these therapies were optional, besides the one-on-one sessions and the singularly requisite group therapy, Goren found himself actively engaging in as many activities as he could possibly manage. In the weeks since he had asked Basil to let him move in with her, he had decided that he wanted to prove that he was mentally stable enough to make positive decisions that would ultimately allow him to live independently outside the Institute.

However, all of this activity left him with scarcely any free time to think.

What he needed was a plan. If he was going to approach Fray with the request to not only be discharged from the institute but get approval to live with Katherine Elizabeth, then it had better be a good one. He didn’t want Fray to agree to have him released only to be denied the right to live with the proprietor.

Ultimately, it came down to skipping out on a few of the elective activities so he could get away. He just wanted to close himself off from everything around him so he could set his brain to work on the problem.

Finding a place to be on his own proved almost as difficult as finding the time to think. Even his room, with its open doorway, did not offer the privacy for which he required. Space, where he could think undisturbed and yet not get in trouble if one of the aides or orderlies were to find him, turned out to be somewhat of a rarity within the mental health institution.

Outside in the garden wasn’t an option because, despite the chilly temperature of late winter, someone had decided to get an early jump on installing a new lighting feature, or some other such nonsense. Neither was the music room or the recreation room because those always tended to be occupied. Wandering a bit, Goren thought of the dressing-room off of the small assembly hall. But he thought better of it, given the events that had transpired there. Instead, he found himself in the physical therapy room that luckily wasn’t been used at the moment.

A few months had passed since his last physical therapy session and Bobby couldn’t have been more pleased to be done with it. Not that he had anything against the trainer who had just been doing his job, but he had hated being touched by the man. While the sessions were never inappropriate, it had always felt overly intimate.

The lasting signs of his abuse were a sore point and Goren often took means to cover them up by wearing long-sleeved shirts and pants. As the athletic nature of the therapy did not allow for those types of garments, the close physical contact made Bobby hyper-aware that he lacked the body hair of a typical adult male, not to mention the scarring on his wrists and inner thigh.

“ _Glad that’s over_ ,” he thought to himself as he entered the room.

Not bothering to flip the lights on, Bobby only partially shut the door. Pulling an office-chair from the desk in the corner, the former detective was pleased to see that it was exactly the type of chair for which he was looking. Sitting down on the seat, Goren leaned back as far as the backrest would go, and let his head fall back as he stared at the ceiling. Letting his eyes go unfocused, he cleared his head of everything else besides the problem he needed to solve.

Lost in thought, he neither noted the passage of time nor the fact that someone had entered the room. The sudden brightness of the lights being flipped on hurt his eyes. Startled, he jolted up in his chair and nearly toppled over in the process. The abrupt movement gave him a head rush and he leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to clear the discomfort.

“Robert,” he heard Fray inquire, “what are you doing in here all by yourself?”

“Oh. Hey, Doctor Fray,” Goren replied, “I was just thinking. You know … um … practicing mindfulness.”

“Is that so?” came Fray’s skeptic return. “What were you thinking about?”

“Honestly,” the detective replied, deciding now was as good a time as ever to put his plan into action, “I was asking myself why I am here.”

“Do you mean in the existential sense?” Fray asked, a humorous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Because if you do, then I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you. Mankind has been searching for the answer to that question for millennia.”

“No,” Goren answered with a shake of his head, “I mean why am I still here, at the institute?”

Just for a second, Fray appeared to be astonished by the question.

 

“You’re here to gain that change in perspective we discussed back when you first agreed to come back to Brooklyn. That hasn’t changed.”

Hearing the director’s response, Goren knew which tactic he wanted to use.

“Yes, but I certainly have changed. Look at me, I’m walking, eating, talking, and engaging in the process. What else is there left to accomplish?”

Fray’s eyebrows knitted together as he asked, “Robert, what exactly are you asking? Because if you’re asking what there is left to accomplish, I’ll tell you. The road to recovery and ultimately self-improvement is never-ending. Life is a journey, not a destination.”

Trying to not to become agitated, Goren rolled his eyes inwardly before calmly continuing the discussion.

“I guess, what I’m asking is: How’s the outpatient program?”

“Outpatient?” Fray inquired, actually sounding surprised. "You want to be discharged? You think you’re ready for that?”

“If I wasn’t ready, I wouldn’t be asking.”

Sighing deeply, Fray took a moment before he explained, “In order to be discharged, there has to be a concrete and detailed plan of action. This not only includes setting up appointments for outpatient sessions but also your living situation. Who are you going to live with? Where are you going to live? What will your day-to-day activities involve? That sort of thing.

“Though I hate to say this, the only person I would be comfortable transferring custody to is your former partner. And I haven’t seen or heard from her in weeks. I’m sorry, Robert, but it looks like you’re stuck here for the time being.”

“Eames isn’t my only option,” Bobby maintained.

“I’m _not_ sending you to a half-way house or to a shelter,” Fray sternly replied, assuming that his patient had meant a more public option. “Besides, finding yourself housing in this market, given your finances, would be near impossible. Not to mention, securing employment would be difficult. I’m not about to turn you out onto the streets. It would be wholly irresponsible on my part.”

“What would you have me do then?” Goren challenged. “Stay here forever, living off of charitable foundation, taking up a bed that could be more beneficial if given to someone with a greater need than mine? You know that’s not the best option.”

“It’s the only option,” Fray insisted.

“Come on, Doc,” Goren negotiated. “I have a very good friend with a spare room that lives within walking distance so you can easily keep an eye on me if you’d like. I mean, why not? You already keep a close eye on her.”

Fray’s eyes widened as he realized to whom Bobby was referring.

“Miss Basil is a single young woman half your age,” Fray stated emphatically, sounding rather scandalized.“Moving in with her would inappropriate, to say the least. Do you have any idea the sorts of activities she engages in outside these walls?”

“I know exactly what she does. She sleeps in, lounges around her house for hours watching TV or messing around on social media before she finally gets dressed, proceeds to painstakingly curl her hair, apply make-up, before going out and partying until the wee hours of the morning. Occasionally, she’ll come over here, but other than that, she doesn’t do anything of consequence.”

Folding his arms in a standoffish manner and drumming his fingers against his upper arm, Fray replied, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re particularly annoying when you’re right?”

“All the time,” Goren said with a grin.

“I take it that you’ve already spoken to Katherine Elizabeth about this?”

Sensing that just maybe he had managed to get on the winning side, Goren was careful to curb his enthusiasm before he replied, “Of course.”

“Was it her idea or yours?”

“Mine.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Positive. I know my own mind and nothing anyone could say or do will change that.”

Pausing to think on it, Fray finally responded, “No. I’m sorry Robert. But it just isn’t done. It’s just not appropriate. People will talk. They won’t see an unusual friendship. They’ll see a couple and assume you’re in a relationship…”

The director might have elaborated more but trailed off due to the laughter the former detective was doing a poor job of concealing.

“Are you trying to tell me that people will think we are having sex?” Goren asked, still amused but shuddered openly at the notion. “As you said, she’s half my age.”

“You know as well as I do, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time an older man and a younger woman have entered into such an arrangement. ”

“Doctor Fray,” Bobby replied in all seriousness, “I consider Katherine Elizabeth to be almost like a little sister. Honestly, I find the idea of having sexual contact with her beyond repugnant. What’s surprising to me is that you object to the possible assumptions of others and not to the more pertinent circumstances.”

“Pertinent circumstances? Such as…”

“ _Oops_ ,” Goren thought to himself, “ _maybe I shouldn’t have brought that up._ ”

“Such as the imbalance of power within our relationship,” the detective replied but was quick to offset the negative connotations by explaining further. “But in all reality, I have decades of experience that make up for whatever advantage she might have due to her inherited wealth. As hard as it might be to understand the closeness of our friendship, I can assure you, there is nothing inappropriate or unequal about it.”

The director appeared to be mulling over the patient’s last statement. One moment slipped into another as Bobby waited for Fray to respond.

“Listen,” Goren beseeched, breaking the uncomfortable silence, “I know you want her to go back to school and do something with her life, right? All she needs is someone to give her structure. I can do that. I can get her back on track.”

“I’ve been trying to do that for years,” the director remarked with a sigh, “why do you think you’d succeed?”

“Because I know her. Because I know what it’s like to be lost in this world without family or friends to anchor you down.”

“You don’t need to live with someone to be there for them.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Bobby shrugged as he waited for the doctor to make up his mind.

“Fine,” Fray finally relented. “I’ll think about it.”

Goren couldn’t believe his luck and began to excitedly thank the director.

“Calm down, Robert,” Fray instructed as he ushered both Bobby and himself back into the corridor. “I said I’ll think about it. But that doesn’t mean yes. I’m going to have to discuss it with your therapist and counselor and the proprietor. Not to mention you’ll have to call Lieutenant Eames up at some point if the decision is made. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“Yes, sir,” Goren replied smartly as they walked down the hall.

Coming to a stop, Fray said, “Oh, and to answer your initial question…”

“About the outpatient program?”

“No,” the director said with a chuckle, “the existential one. The one about your purpose in existence.”

This time it was Goren’s turn to be surprised.

“You have an answer for that?”

“‘Men are that they might have joy’,” Fray replied with a smirk. “Sounds clever, doesn’t it. I read it in a book once. I guess what I’m saying is that my role is not to hold my patients back but to help them find joy. I just hope that is what I can do for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been diligently working to make this story interesting and compelling. Seemingly my efforts have little effect as I haven't received any comments on the past 3 chapters. As someone who greatly values getting and reading and responding to those notifications, the lack of comments has left me rather depressed. 
> 
> So in conclusion, my dear readers, please don't make me sad. Leave a comment.


	25. Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last few weeks of Bobby's life at the Institute have left him stressed and anxious. In an attempt to alleviate those feelings, he falls back on an old habit.

Smoke, the new nurses’ aide smelled like smoke. Not woodsmoke either, it was the sticky scent that lingered on the man’s skin, hair, and clothing that clearly indicated the frequent use of tobacco. For whatever reason, this smell distracted Goren far more than he’d like to admit.

At one point in his life, smoking had been a guilty pleasure. But he managed to quit almost twenty years prior, though that number wasn’t nearly as impressive considering the number of times he had small lapses and bummed a cigarette here or there, especially when times got stressful.

“ _Maybe that’s why the man’s smell is so alluring_ ,” Goren thought, considering he was on the cusp of being released from the institute later that week into Katherine Elizabeth’s conditional custody.

Fray had made impossibly sure that those conditions were quite strict. First, Goren was required to attend outpatient therapy sessions at least three times a week. Second, Fray wanted to personally oversee the living arrangements and do wellness checks in what were to be both scheduled and unscheduled visits. Getting Basil to agree to that was a headache and she had griped about how she didn’t want to feel like she was being supervised. Thirdly, they needed a plausible reason why Goren would live with the proprietor in the first place.

Since telling anyone that they were related was not something Bobby was comfortable doing, Katherine Elizabeth had come up with an alternative solution that she had somehow sold to Fray. If anyone asked, they would simply say that Goren was an old friend of the family who was in the city working on research for a historical collection of immigrant folklore from the late eighteen century, being both specific and benign in nature. Asserting to others that because he wasn’t sure how long the research would take, it seemed unreasonable to rent a place or a hotel room for an indeterminate amount of time, the simple solution was just for him to take up residence in Basil’s spare bedroom. Mentioning that he had once been in law-enforcement would just stir up questions that Goren felt would be better left unanswered.

The fourth condition, the one that left Bobby feeling the most anxious, was that he had to call Eames and explain to her the plan and get her approval. Having mentioned it when the subject was first brought up, Fray had said that going forward without the lieutenant’s consent was not feasible. Eames had already proven herself willing to get lawyers involved and no one fancied having a legal battle on their hands. Blindsiding her would be bad form. And so Goren was faced with what he felt was an insurmountable task.

Having not seen her in almost two months, how could he just call her up and explain his reaction was merely a symptom of the abuse he had endured and then in the next sentence tell her he was well enough to be released? Not to mention that the person’s care he was being released into was the very person Eames saw as a dangerous threat. Could he even hope to fix the rift between the two women?

Maybe he could ask Deakins to breach the subject with Eames the next time the man visited. His former captain came to visit every other week and while Goren relished the company, he couldn’t help but to not want to burden the man with his own problems. Supposedly, he could ask Logan but that man’s appearances were infrequent and unpredictable.

The whole situation leading up to his release was making him uncharacteristically anxious and stressed.

 _“Still, being anxious about the upcoming move isn’t a good enough excuse to do what I did,”_ he mused, as he stood outside in the garden before breakfast and fiddled with the stolen pack of cigarettes he had lifted from the aide’s pocket.

 _“You know you can’t smoke those,”_ Bobby told himself silently.

 _“I know,_ ” he replied as he pushed back the flip-top lid and checked the contents.

The motions were well-practiced and instinctive. Still mostly full, the excess space within occupied by a plastic lighter, the bottom left cigarette had been over-turned so the filter was at the bottom instead of face-up like its fellows. Smiling to himself, he recalled how he too used to ‘flip the lucky’ when opening a pack for the first time.

Practically ritualistic in nature, he removed the lucky, closed the lid, and struck the package against his thigh as to ‘pack’ the tobacco within tighter together. The classic red and white printed exterior of the pack felt familiar in his hands, like an old friend. He wondered if they would be as tempting if they hadn’t been the same brand of Marlboro Reds he used to smoke.

 _“Two words_ ,” he cautioned himself, “ _drug intolerance. You might not remember what happened in the hospital but you certainly remember that bottle of beer.”_

“ _Yeah but that was a whole bottle and this… this would just be a couple of puffs. Nothing drastic,”_ he rationalized as he looked down at the small rolled bundle of tobacco in his hand, finding comfort in the light weight between his middle and index fingers. “ _Besides, it’s not like I can’t handle getting a little sick._ ”

“ _Robert Oliver Goren, you listen to me and you listen to me now_ ,” Bobby demanded. “ _We quit for a reason, remember? And relapsing now could be more dangerous than it ever was before… don’t do this._ ”

Ignoring the prudent self-council, Goren placed the tip of the filter between his lips.

“ _What’s the worst that could happen?_ ”

Taking the lighter from the box, he flicked the spark-wheel and depressed the lever to hold the flame. Bringing it to the end of the cigarette, he briefly inhaled to ignite the tobacco. Warm smoke filled his mouth and swirled around his tongue. Slightly heavier than the air around him, it tasted rich and almost spicy as he drew the vapor down into his lungs before exhaling it into the cool crisp soft morning breeze.

Despite it having been so long since his last cigarette, he hadn’t coughed as the smoke hit the back of his throat, that area having been desensitized by the NG tube and certain activities he frequently engaged in back in Chicago. Instead, he relished in the most exquisite feeling of euphoria and relaxation as the nicotine flooded into his system.

Dizzy with delight and feeling a little weak, he leaned up against the brick wall and took another drag as he savored the taste, the smell, and the sensation of bliss that rolled through him and rid him of all the anxiety and worry he had been carrying for so long.

Not even feeling a little bit guilty at this point, Goren wondered why he had ever quit. It was such a comforting feeling, like an old friend returning and promising to heal all that ailed him coupled with the excitement of kissing a girl for the first time. Taking each drag slowly, he savored each moment.

Trying not to let the thrill die, he chased the first cigarette with another from the pack.

Even as he finished his second one, the tightness he began to feel in his chest did not stop him. It wasn’t until he was on his third that the coughing began. Initially, it was just a tickle in his throat that he thought he was having trouble clearing. But with each consecutive cough, he realized the sensation was culminating from deep in his lungs. The breaths he took in-between were cut short as his body rebelled against the agents he had inhaled.

Finding himself unable to remain standing, Goren sank to the ground, fearing he might pass out as the edges of his vision began to blur. Each wracking cough sent convulsions through his torso. Feeling moisture on his lips, he tried to wipe off the gathering spittle before it dripped down his chin. Looking down at his shaking hand, he realized it was not saliva but blood.

He was coughing up blood.

Trembling, he attempted to call out for help but the sound he made was merely a hint of a whisper. Hoping the noise of his now barking coughs would attract attention, Bobby gave way and no longer resisted the revolt inside him. But as his lungs forced air out, he found he could no longer draw air in and his once blurry vision was now completely impaired.

The lack of oxygen was crushing and he began to feel his consciousness slip away. With only seconds of awareness left, Goren felt nothing but regret.


	26. Appendix

 

The story continues on in the next part of the series, [Rewoven Fealty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16935243/chapters/39792159).

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dearest readers, so sorry to leave you hanging. I have written so much of the next portion of this series but it took me forever to come up with a title. My deepest apologies. However, I hope that in the mean time you found those 4 bonus chapters I had written for Unexpected Tribulations:  
> 
> 
> * Lessons/[Dictata](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11712039/chapters/38237303) - added 2018-10-19
>   
> 
> * Bones/[Ossium](/works/11712039/chapters/38343809) - added 2018-10-23  
> 
>   
> 
> * Questions/ [Quaestiones](/works/11712039/chapters/38422031) - added 2018-10-26  
> 
>   
> 
> * Procedure/ [Operationem](/works/11712039/chapters/38613959) - added 2018-11-01  
> 


End file.
